Duel of the Fates
by padme's sister
Summary: When an old flame of Gwaine's turns up in Camelot, not all is as it seems. Lady Dante is perfect in absolutely EVERY way possible, and this is what bothers Merlin. Why is she in Camelot? And is she really as innocent and naive as she seems?
1. A Surprise For Gwaine

**Author Note:** Ok, so some of you may have noticed that recently, I've not exactly been known to finish the stories I start, but with this one, I promise it will be different. I've already got several chapters written, plenty of inspiration AND an actual desire to see this one through for a change, woop woop! So here we go, my first Merlin fic. And as always, reviews are much appreciated :)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the character Dante, so hands off...you can't have her. She's mine! lol. Also I apologise if some of these characters appear 'out of character', but I have tried to keep them as true to their on screen portrayals as possible, whilst also exploring different angles to each character that we have not seen before. So that's my excuse :P

**General Summary:** Basically this story's set a year after the end of Series 4. Tristan was knighted because of his help in winning back Camelot from Morgana (and also because Arthur still feels guilty over Isolde's death), Gwen is a much loved and very popular Queen, though she's still getting used to it and often forgets that she is now above everyone else, rather than equal to or below them. Morgana has not been seen since Arthur's attack on the Citadel, and many believe she is now dead, especially after Gwen confirmed that she was badly wounded the last time she was seen, and Camelot is, for the moment, enjoying an extended period of peace and prosperity. But, as we all know, this cannot last, so, as the Great Dragon Kilgharra often says...In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name...** Merlin**.

**...**

"What's the point of being out here if there's nothing to hunt?" Gwaine complained as he and his fellow Camelot Knights trudged on foot through the forest, each carrying crossbows and swords casually over their shoulders.

"Because it's Arthur's birthday tomorrow," Elyan explained for the hundredth time with a deep sigh. "And Gwen wants us to catch something for the feast."

"Easier said than done when there's nothing out here to be caught," Gwaine continued to grumble. He'd been in high spirits that morning when the hunting party had set out. But now, as the sun began to set on the horizon, the novelty had well and truly worn off - as had his good mood.

Elyan rolled his eyes and glanced at his fellow knights. Percival, Leon and Tristan gave him knowing smirks, but chose to remain silent. When Gwaine was in one of these moods, it was better to just keep quiet and let him sulk until he snapped out of it.

For a while the five knights continued on in silence, venturing further and further into the woods and away from the familiar beaten track, Elyan and Tristan holding a quiet bet about how much longer Gwaine would last before he snapped completely.

Half an hour later, Gwaine finally decided that enough was enough, and was intending to turn back and return to his waiting horse (earning Elyan four gold coins from Tristan in the process) when a nearby branch snapped, as loud as a whip being cracked. This was quickly followed by the sounds of uneven movements through the thick undergrowth.

The five knights immediately bent low, vanishing into the bushes as their eyes lit up with excitement. Finally, their patience had paid off!

However, it didn't take Tristan long to realise that perhaps their silent celebrations were possibly premature. He'd lived in the woods as a smuggler long enough to learn the sounds of the different woodland creatures, and whilst he was no expert, of course, he could tell that there were only two feet, not four. This, added to the sounds of branches being pushed aside indicated that this was no animal heading towards them, but rather a person.

And this only raised the question, what would anyone else be doing out here, so far from the path? He glanced at the others and saw the same confusion mirrored on their faces.

Leon, who was at the head of the group and was also the most senior and experienced of the knights, signalled for everyone to spread out into the trees. Wordlessly they all fanned out, still crouching low and searching with their eyes and ears for the source of the sound.

Tristan pulled the crossbow from his shoulder as he moved, and slid a bolt into place, just in case this person - whoever they were - may not be friendly. After all, Morgana was still on the prowl. Granted, she had not been seen for several months, but Arthur had warned them all never to underestimate his half-sister again. They'd made that mistake too many times already.

Plus, there were the usual bandits, smugglers, slavers and any number of other unsavoury groups who were certainly no friends of Camelot - not that he'd consider smugglers unsavoury, but Uther had outlawed them long before his death, and Arthur, as the new King apparently had no plans for lifting his father's laws now, not even for one former smuggler such as Tristan.

Tristan had been granted clemency and knighted for his heroic deeds in helping Arthur reclaim Camelot from Morgana's clutches for a second time, but Arthur was adamant that this would be a one off occurrence, as Tristan had earned himself a reprieve. The same could not be said for all smugglers in general.

Glancing to his right now, Tristan saw that Gwaine had also loaded a bolt into his own crossbow, the two knights apparently thinking alike. As the noises grew closer, Tristan watched as his friend breathed deeply, settling his nerves. His finger tensed on the trigger and then he stood, finally making his presence known. The Knights in their scarlet capes would have been spotted sooner or later, after all, so even though Gwaine's act to reveal himself to the stranger was perhaps foolish, considering they could be dangerous, it was also a smart move of him to use his element of surprise whilst he still had the advantage.

There was a short gasp of surprise and then silence, but no sounds of a violent death or attack of any kind towards the knight. Gwaine simply remained rooted to the spot, crossbow half way to his shoulder, mid aim.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Tristan rose at the same time as the other knights, far off to his left. All of them blinked in surprise as Gwaine finally moved again, lowering his crossbow.

Because standing in front of them all was a young woman, pale and slender, wearing a brown tunic and trousers, masses of thick mahogany hair plastered against her sweaty pale skin. Yet surprisingly it didn't mar her striking appearance in the slightest.

She was probably only in her twenties, but her refined and aristocratic features - even under all the mud and forest grime - made her look older. Despite her appearance (the phrase 'being dragged through a hedge backwards' coming to mind), the knights could not deny that she was still breathtakingly beautiful. And yet, as she stood in the middle of the forest, breathing heavily (sounding for all the world as if she'd been running for her life) and surrounded by the Knights of Camelot, she did not appear afraid. In fact the woman paid absolutely no attention to anyone except Gwaine now, as they all moved in closer.

She tilted her beautiful head in Gwaine's direction, forcing the Knight to surreptitiously stand a little taller, as if he was under inspection.

"Gwaine?" she spoke eventually, her voice a mixture of both confusion and disbelief as she frowned, in apparent recognition of the knight standing before her.

Gwaine gasped in astonishment as it finally dawned on him why the woman looked so familiar and the other Knights looked at each other in confusion.

"Dante?" he spoke at last, his own voice matching hers in both confusion and disbelief, as she stepped forward, moving to stand before him. There she stood for several long seconds, saying nothing - choosing simply to stare at him with dark eyes now, as if she expected him to respond somehow.

"You two know each other?" Percival asked at last as Gwaine fidgeted uneasily under her intense gaze. Finally he decided, not exactly sure what he was supposed to be saying, that he would give her one of his heart breaking smiles that usually no-one could resist - particularly the ladies of Camelot.

"Hello, Milady," he spoke in his smooth velvet voice, bowing his head to her and turning his charm up full force. "It is good to see you again."

Any other woman would have melted at his feet, right about then. But not Dante. She remained silent, her mouth thinning into an angry frown.

"Aren't...aren't you happy to see me?" he began to flounder, realising that his charms were having no effect. Though, now that he thought about it, his charms never actually had worked on Dante - ever. Not even when -

A fist slamming into his jaw broke off all train of thought as he found himself sprawled on his back in a pile of dead leaves.

The other knights exchanged equally surprised looks as Gwaine groaned, clutching his face. He couldn't fail to notice, however, that none of them were exactly leaping to his defence. They simply turned in unison to regard the woman with amused looks.

She was furious now, her look daring them all to go ahead and defend their felled comrade. Percival couldn't help it then, and let out a short, amused laugh.

"Yes. You DEFINITELY know Gwaine."

She raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment as Gwaine slowly picked himself back up off the floor, still holding his cheek, though his roguish grin had returned, never-the-less. "Still as charming as ever, I see."

"You're a fine one to talk," she glared, and his grin only increased as he looked upon her.

There was no denying that with her large brown eyes and soft features, Dante had always been able to quite literally outshine anyone about her, and it seemed that even now, ten years later, nothing had changed. He might even go so far as to say she could outshine the stars themselves, now, with her mixture of intelligence and beauty, of innocence and allure, of courage and integrity and yet with a good measure of a child's mischievousness. She floored Gwaine (literally in this particular instance) every time he looked upon her.

But then, as so often happens in real life, where things are harsh and unfair, this wondrous moment of studying such an image of perfection came to an abrupt end for Gwaine when Dante suddenly staggered and fell to her knees, clutching her stomach in agony. Gwaine was by her side in an instant, his crossbow lying forgotten in the undergrowth.

As the other knights rushed forwards to lend aid where it was needed, Gwaine saw for the first time, the increasing patch of dark crimson seeping slowly through her tunic, and as he gently pulled up the bottom of the tunic to reveal her (very toned and sculpted) stomach, she yelped and tried to pull away. Gwaine was horrified to see, even before he'd revealed the wound itself, that his hand was already coated in thick sticky blood.

"We need to get her to Gaius." There was no hiding the urgency in his voice, and for once, none of the others argued with him.

"Let me," Percival said, reaching forwards and scooping her gently into his strong arms as if she weighed nothing. Gwaine tore off his cloak and draped it over her as Percival adjusted her ever so slightly in his arms, and then the pair of them set off, crashing back through the undergrowth towards where they had left their horses tethered several hours earlier.

Tristan grabbed the discarded weapons and followed suit with Leon and Elyan - each of them looking suitably concerned.

**...**

Merlin hated special occasions in Camelot - particularly birthdays, special guest arrivals, weddings, feasts, banquets...in fact pretty much any cause for celebration was frowned upon by the young warlock. Not because he was a spoilsport - far from it in fact! Merlin loved a good celebration as much as the next person, and any excuse to relax for a while and have a bit of fun with his friends was always a bonus. And if he was being honest, it wasn't actually the celebration itself that he always hated. It was more the week or so leading up to the event that he hated.

Because Arthur usually piled so many jobs on his manservant's shoulders that Merlin would often have to work late into the night and rise early again each morning, just to ensure that they were all completed to Arthur's standards in time.

Tomorrow had been no exception to this rule, and crossing the courtyard late on the eve before the King's birthday, Merlin was almost fearful of breathing a sigh of relief in case Arthur found him even more jobs to occupy his time, well into the early hours of the morning. Still, for now at least, all his chores were done, and if he kept a low profile and stayed out of Arthur's way, perhaps he might just get away with having one early evening, after all.

Sadly, however, this was not meant to be, because as he turned to acknowledge the return of the hunting party - heralded by several clattering hooves on cobbles - Merlin knew immediately that something was wrong.

Percival, astride his huge bay horse, was cradling something - or rather someone- in front of him in the saddle as he led the charge of the Knights, Gwaine's fiery black horse close on his heels.

"Merlin!" Gwaine called out as he saw the young warlock, and Merlin let out a quiet sigh. So much for his early evening.

As he ran over, along with several of the stable boys, he saw Percival slide carefully from the saddle, still cradling someone in his huge arms - someone wrapped in Gwaine's cloak from the looks of things.

Someone with a fan of mahogany hair.

"Who's she?" he asked as the stable boys took the horses from their respective knights and Merlin caught of a glimpse of the young woman for the first time.

"She's an old friend, Merlin," Gwaine told him as Percival started off for Gaius' tower as Gwaine took Merlin's arm, practically dragging him after them. "And she's hurt."

"What happened?" Merlin asked, surprised. "I thought you were out hunting for Arthur's birthday?"

"We were. She was wandering the woods, clearly lost and delirious when we came across her."

"I'll run and fetch Arthur," Leon called to them as they vanished into the tower where Gaius and Merlin resided. Merlin didn't have time to see what Elyan and Tristan were doing, but right at that moment, if he was being honest, he had more pressing issues to deal with. Such as this mystery friend of Gwaine's who was currently unconscious in Percival's arms.


	2. Recovery

Gwaine stayed with Dante all night, only leaving her side once when Percival had to literally drag him away to eat, and give Gaius some space to tend to her wounds without the anxious knight hanging over his shoulder the entire time.

Now here he was, several hours later, sitting by her bedside, watching her sleep, even though, unfortunately, she was something of a mess to look upon. Gaius had quickly discovered that she had been hurt worse than any of them had first thought, and only the rush of pure adrenaline had kept her going for so long after whatever had happened to inflict the injuries upon her in the first place.

Punching Gwaine in the face had used up her last reserves of energy, though he had to admit, he had deserved it. And as soon as she was awake again, he would make amends for it. But until then, he was helpless to do anything except sit and study her sleeping form.

There was no doubt it was her, of course, but she was in a terrible state, and despite Gaius and Merlin's joint efforts to patch her up, the extent of her injuries was still horrifically obvious.

Her face was bruised and cut, the wounds only being revealed once the mud and grime had been gently sponged away, and there was a deep wound at the base of her skull that had been hidden by her long curls of chocolate hair.

One of her shoulders had been dislocated, and Gaius had popped it back in to place several hours earlier, informing Gwaine that there would be no permanent damage to the arm. But it was now a deep, angry purple, and her other shoulder was just as bad – impact damage, perhaps? A fall from a horse, maybe. Would explain why she'd been wandering, lost and confused.

In fact, all the damage she'd sustained pointed to this conclusion, save for three unexplainable wounds - the gash to her stomach and the red raw marks round both wrists.

Gaius had told him that the wound was made by a knife, or other similar object, but was only superficial. After cleaning it up and dabbing away the dried and crusting blood, he decided that it would not in fact need stitches because despite the huge amount of blood at first, the old physician assured Gwaine, it was not nearly as bad as they had first assumed, and it certainly wasn't life threatening. Well, not until she'd caught an infection in it, anyway. Plus she now also had a fever that alternately brought her out in fierce sweats and raging shivers.

And to top it all off, she was deathly white. Almost as white as the bed sheets, in fact.

Other than that, she was still as beautiful as he'd remembered her to be...perhaps even more so, he decided as he took a cloth from the bowl, rung it out and gently wiped away the beads of sweat that had appeared across her brow. She was trembling, and her teeth chattered slightly, and he wondered if he should perhaps find another blanket for her, until the fever had passed.

"Still getting yourself into trouble, Milady?" he muttered quietly, taking hold of her hand as she continued to tremble in her sleep. "Nothing's changed there, then."

"Gwaine," a sleepy voice spoke from the adjoining room, and Gwaine glanced up to see Merlin standing in the doorway to his bedroom. "Why don't you go and get some rest. I'll watch her, if you want."

"It's alright, Merlin," Gwaine shook his head, unwilling to leave Dante's side now. But when he yawned unexpectedly, Merlin gave him a pointed look, and he sighed, knowing the young man was right.

"If anything happens - " he started as he rose from the stool, stretching his aching joints. He'd definitely been sitting down for too long.

Merlin descended the stairs leading to his room and grinned as he took Gwaine's place on the stool. "You'll be the first to know. I promise."

"You swear?" Gwaine frowned.

"I swear on Arthur's life," Merlin nodded, no hint of a joke to his tone this time. Satisfied, Gwaine yawned and stretched once more, then bent down and kissed Dante's forehead, before letting out another resigned sigh and reluctantly leaving. Merlin watching him go, then looked down at the unconscious woman.

"I think someone's got themselves an admirer," he whispered into the darkness.

...

The next morning, Gaius decided to inform Arthur about their mystery guest. Arthur knew the situation, of course, but not the details and had requested that the old physician fill him in first thing in the morning, considering the hunting party had returned late the evening before and until Gaius had examined Dante's wounds, he wouldn't have much to report to the King anyway. The knights had already given their reports, and now it was Gaius' turn, having left Merlin to care for the girl - not that she would be requiring much, considering she was still unconscious.

Arthur and Gwen had been enjoying Arthur's birthday breakfast together in the dining hall - a feast of fresh fruits and breads - when Gaius had requested his audience, and although he'd offered to wait until they had finished, Arthur had motioned for him to continue, anyway. So Gaius had wished the King a happy birthday as he'd stepped into the room, waiting for the doors to close behind him again. After all this was a delicate situation, considering the circumstances that Dante had been found under, so for the time being, the physician had decided that the less people who knew all the details, the better.

"What news of the girl?" Arthur asked now, taking a measured sip from his golden chalice. Gwen stopped eating at this and turned her attention to the old physician too.

"I have tended to her wounds to the best of my abilities, sire," Gaius informed Arthur, though he was also speaking as much to Guinevere as to her husband. "Of which there were many. But fortunately for her, they were not severe. Once the fever has passed, I'm sure she'll be up and about again in no time."

"Gwaine mentioned that he thought she may have been stabbed?" Arthur asked, concerned.

"A shallow wound, Sire. It did not even need stitches, in the end. Perhaps a scratch would have been a better explanation."

"But she collapsed?"

"From nothing more than exhaustion, Sire. I believe she may have been running away from somewhere - or rather someone."

"What makes you say that?" Guinevere spoke finally, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"She has wounds on both wrists, from some kind of restraint or shackle. Added to the fact she was found wandering the woods, starved and exhausted, dressed in simple clothes not exactly befitting a lady of her station, I'd say she was someone's captive, for some time before her escape. I could be wrong, of course, but to me, that is what her wounds suggest."

"How long before she wakes?"

"I'm afraid it's impossible to say, Sire."

Arthur sighed, knowing that the physician had done his best. Nodding, he thanked Gaius and allowed him on his way, acknowledging that he probably had many patients to see that morning - Gaius did in fact have a whole list of people he needed to see, but he'd never have admitted it to the King for fear of appearing rude. Now that Arthur had given him leave, however, he no longer had to worry.

Bowing low to both royals, he turned and left the room, heading back to his quarters to fetch his bag, ready for his morning rounds.

...

Blackness slowly gave way to a blur and Dante stirred at the touch of something damp and cold on her brow, followed by a gentle splashing sound.

She made the mistake of slowly blinking her eyes open to bright morning sunlight shining through an overhead window, making her wince. Her vision was blurry, and her head throbbed with an insistent and unpleasant pounding. Blinking again, her eyes finally adjusted enough to see, but there wasn't much to look at.

The morning sunlight from above shone through the hanging fabric of curtains, drawn over a window. She let her eyes roam around some more, building a picture of her surrounding as the blur gradually cleared.

There was a bewildering array of glass flasks, instruments of brass and copper on every available surface, and books. Lots of books.

Volumes large and small, open on the tables, stacked on the floor or crammed into shelves lining the walls.

Dust swirled in the sunlight, spiralling in the air before settling on the jumble of objects scattered about the room.

She felt the press of the damp cloth on her brow again and turned her head on the pillow slightly, looking up into the face of the young man who was sitting beside the bed.

"Did I wake you?" he asked in surprise, as he dipped the rag back into a bowl perched on a stool beside him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be as gentle as I can."

"What...happened?" Her voice came out as a hoarse croak and she coughed, intensifying the pounding head. Then she groaned out loud and laid her head back down again to stop the spinning room from making her nauseated.

"You were found in the Forest of Ascetir, on the borders of Essetir," he explained gently. "You were hurt, so the knights who found you brought you back here."

Dante listened, closing her eyes wearily for a moment, before opening them cautiously again. "And where is here, exactly?"

"Camelot. The Court of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere Pendragon."

She nodded again, letting out a long sigh of what sounded to Merlin like relief. Though why she'd be so relieved at reaching Camelot, he would have to wait to find out, because even as he returned to dabbing her brow again gently with the rag, she slipped back into unconsciousness - too exhausted and weak to fight against it.


	3. Meeting Merlin

**Author Note: Hey everyone, thanks for reading so far and not giving up on me already - it's much appreciated :)...I know the story's a little slow to get going, after all, but I promise you things will start getting more interesting soon because Lady Dante's finally up and about - and things are never boring when she's around (I make sure of that, hehe). Besides...she has some unfinished business with Gwaine to attend to.**

**Still, more on that later. For now, enjoy this next chapter (even though it's only a short one), thank you for the wonderful reviews so far, and keep them coming! Even critisism is welcome (as long as it's constructive. Non constructive criticism gets fed to Aithusa - he's a hungry bugger, lol)**

...

When Dante woke again, she felt almost refreshed. There was still the inevitable twinge of pain in her stomach when she moved, but her head felt clear and she had thrown off the fever, finally.

Sitting up very slowly and remembering her brief meeting with the young man when she'd woken earlier, she looked about the room again, hoping to see a familiar face. Unfortunately she was on her own, which meant that all the questions burning in the back of her mind would have to wait for now.

But it also meant that she was spared any embarrassment when she discovered that she was wearing a silken nightgown that was not her own. At some point someone must have dressed her in it, and she felt the blush of embarrassment creep onto her cheeks, regardless of the fact she was currently alone.

A quick glance out of the window told her that it was now late evening - if the sun setting on the horizon was anything to go by, so she'd been unconscious for pretty much most of the day. No wonder she felt so refreshed!

Deciding that she needed to find her own clothes again, sooner rather than later, she turned so that her legs dangled over the side of the bed. Then she gripped her side, feeling a slight twinge beneath the fabric of the nightgown and trying hard not to think of what she might see if she were to look. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to stand, gritting her teeth against the inevitable pain.

Before she'd even touched her feet to the ground, however, the door opened and the dark haired boy who she'd met briefly walked back in, bearing a folded bundle of emerald cloth.

"You're awake!" he beamed, obviously delighted. Dante was touched by his reaction, but also a little confused. Well, more than a little, truth be told.

Who was he?

She vaguely remembered hearing a name, during her brief state of semi-consciousness as she'd been carried in that giant knight's arms, somewhere.

"Gaius?" she asked, tentatively, not even sure if she'd actually heard right. The boy - or rather, young man as she'd only now noticed - chuckled and shook his head.

"Gaius is busy doing his rounds," he explained. "He's the court physician. I'm Merlin, his apprentice."

"Merlin?" she repeated, nodding as she memorised his face for future reference. So this was the famous Merlin, then? The boy she'd heard so much about? He wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting.

"And you're Lady Dante?" he asked,, cutting across her thoughts and matching her tentative tone now, hoping that he had not been informed wrong. She smiled and nodded.

"You heard that from Gwaine, I presume? I haven't actually been a Lady for several years now, so just Dante will do."

"You're not a Lady?" Merlin frowned, confused. Not really wanting to go into detail now and then have to repeat herself again to the king later, Dante merely shook her head.

"Long story. So, how long was I out?"

"About twenty four hours, give or take a few minutes," he replied after careful consideration. "You woke once, a few hours ago, but you've been pretty much out of it since then."

She nodded, remembering her brief moment of consciousness, then lapsed into silence once more.

Merlin set the bundle on the bed beside her, then pulled up a stool to sit on. "How do you feel?" he asked, his tone one of genuine concern.

"Better, thank you," she replied, once again touched by his apparent concern for her. He smiled, pleased, then nodded towards the bundle. "Compliments of Camelot's former First Lady."

"The Lady Morgana?" Dante asked, surprised, as she inspected the bundle to discover that it was in fact a beautiful and very elegant emerald gown, more befitting of a Princess than a Lady.

"You know of Morgana?" Merlin asked, equally as shocked. Dante raised an imperious eyebrow, looking at him as if he'd just asked her the most stupidly obvious question in the world.

"Everyone knows of the Lady Morgana," she told him matter-of-factly. "I'm surprised the King would even keep any of her stuff."

"He ordered everything to be destroyed, except her clothing," Merlin sighed. "I think he managed to convince himself that someday they'd find a use. Or maybe he couldn't bring himself to sever all ties from her completely? I don't really know, to be honest. "

"Must have been hard for him...her betrayal and all," Dante nodded knowingly, her voice soft and sad.

Merlin nodded as well. "It was hard on all of us. Still, it seems like Arthur's ready to move on now. Which is a good thing."

"Indeed. And I am very grateful," Dante smiled as she ran the silk through her fingers, watching the light dance off it. "It's a beautiful dress. Though I'm wondering...would it not be weird for me to be dressed in something that holds such bad memories for the Kingdom?"

"Morgana wasn't always bad. These dresses of hers hold many good memories as well," Merlin tried to sound convincing, but failed epically. Dante chose to ignore this, however, and focus on the positive.

"It's gorgeous. Thank you, Merlin."

"Don't thank me. Sir Gwaine was the one who managed to convince Arthur to dig them out of storage. I think he has a thing for you."

"Wouldn't surprise me," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Merlin paused and studied her for a moment, a wry smirk appearing slowly at the corners of his mouth. "Am I sensing some history, between you two?"

"Long story," she said again, eager not to stray into that particular territory just yet. Merlin clearly had more questions to bombard her with, but thankfully she was saved by a sharp rap at the door. Sir Leon entered, looked from Merlin to Dante, then smiled and nodded his head slightly to her.

"Milady," he greeted. Then he turned to the room's other occupant. "Merlin, Arthur's searching for you. Apparently he can't find his jacket for this evening, and you were the last one seen with it?"

"Can you tell him I put it..." Merlin started, and then paused, a look of dawning horror emerging slowly across his face. "I put it...erm...somewhere," he floundered, unable to actually remember WHERE he'd put it now.

"Well perhaps you'd better find it before Arthur finds you," Leon suggested, amused. Then he bowed his head to Dante and left.

Merlin shot to his feet in an instant, a look of wild panic in his eyes. "Would you excuse me?" he asked Dante, who smiled and nodded.

"Of course. Is something happening tonight?"

"It's the King's birthday, and I've lost his jacket," Merlin groaned. "He's going to kill me, if I don't find it."

"The King's birthday?" Dante repeated, thoughtfully, as Merlin began a frantic search of the immediate area for the offending jacket.

"There's a feast this evening. You should come," Merlin called as he ran into his room, emerging seconds later still wild eyed with panic. "You could wear that dress. That's if you're up for it, of course."

"I'll think about it," she nodded, highly amused by his frantic search. "Surely the King won't mind wearing a different jacket?" she suggested after a moment, but Merlin merely paused, stared at her incredulously, then carried on hunting.

"You don't know Arthur," he called as he finally ran from the room to check other parts of the Citadel.

"No," Dante agreed quietly with a slight smirk. "But I will do, soon enough."


	4. Arthur's Birthday Feast

**Author Note: Hello again everyone. It's the weekend, yay! Which means more time for me to post chapters, woop woop! Anyways, to answer a few questions and comments first of all...**

**sexystarwarslover - I'm glad you're liking the story so far, and I'm honoured that this was the first Merlin fic you chose to read. Makes me feel special, hehe. Hope it continues to entertain you as much as it has apparently done already, and don't worry, you'll begin to learn a lot more about Dante (particularly her relationship with Gwaine) over the next few chapters.**

**Reuben deFlash - Cool name btw. And don't worry, Dante's 'perfection' is all just a front. She has a few major flaws which I'll explore with her later on, and a few minor flaws that I'll explore over the next few chapters, but please, if you feel that even with these flaws, she's still too perfect, let me know! Because I don't want a one dimensional character or a Mary Sue as you put it, so if I start to stray down that path, please don't hesitate to point it out :)**

**Same goes for everyone else...constructive criticism and ideas for improvement are always greatly welcome :)**

**So in the meantime, lets get back to Arthur's birthday. As the Lady Morgana once said, "Say what you like about the food, but you can't beat our feasts for entertainment." And this feast, in honour of the King's birthday, will be no exception. Enjoy!**

**...**

Later that evening, the birthday celebrations were well underway when Dante finally made her way down to meet with Arthur, for the first time. She could hear the sounds of joyful music and chattering voices from within the hall, as well as the clinking of goblets and pitchers and much laughter.

Leaning against a stone pillar outside the hall, she closed her eyes. A light breeze brushed across her face from somewhere, and she inhaled deeply, her eyes still tightly closed as her head thudded against the pillar behind her - which she quickly decided was a bad idea when the cut at the base of her skull began to throb painfully again, adding yet another thing to the list of reasons why this was probably a bad idea.

Was now really the right time to be doing this? She was dressed in Morgana's lavish emerald gown, and whilst it covered the extent of her bodily cuts and bruises, the ones that adorned her face were still painfully obvious. And not only that, but these were Morgana's clothes. What if everyone judged her before they even knew her, simply because of her choice of clothing?

What if they started asking awkward questions about her? Could she handle the pressure, or would she crack? She had a carefully composed story in her head, but if people started bombarding her with questions, this story could fall apart in seconds.

And what would Arthur be like? Would he be sympathetic and understanding? Or cold and cruel like his father?

What about Gwaine? It was true, they DID have a history together, and yes, perhaps she had been a little out of order towards him, back in the woods, but he deserved it - or so she tried to tell herself.

But would his presence in Camelot make things awkward now? Or would it make things easier, with a friendly face about the place, despite their past?

She would find out the answer to that particular question sooner rather than later, as the doors to the hall were thrown open briefly and someone staggered out, laughing madly. She could tell, even with her eyes closed, that it was Gwaine, and shook her head slightly. Clearly he hadn't changed one bit.

"Evening," he grinned as he turned and saw her leaning against the pillar, eyes closed. "You not joining the celebrations?"

"I don't know," she told him truthfully as he walked over, doing his best not to stagger, and leant an arm on the pillar. He was a good few inches taller than her anyway, and when she finally opened her eyes, rather than looking up at the ceiling, she found herself looking up into his big goofy face as he grinned stupidly down at her.

"Hello," he beamed.

"Hello Gwaine," she replied calmly, ducking out from under his arm as he collapsed against the pillar, looking very smug with himself all of a sudden as he folded his arms across his chest. She walked over to the nearby window - the source of the draft, she quickly discovered - and looked out into the darkness beyond.

"Hey," he frowned after a moment, as her words finally registered. "That's SIR Gwaine, to you...My Lady."

She rolled her eyes. "I haven't been YOUR Lady for quite some time."

"Ouch."

She felt, rather than heard him move behind her, and when he spoke again, there was no hint of his earlier drunken merriment. "Dante...?"

His hand took hers ever so gently, and she found herself being turned round to face him. Feeling the situation slipping rapidly out of her control, she took a deep breath, then forced a smile as she tried to regain control before it was lost completely.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual as she brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Merlin mentioned that you were awake and feeling better now, so I was coming to find you." Such a normal answer, it caught her by surprise.

"Why?"

"Well, to invite you to the feast, of course."

"Invite me?" she repeated, stunned. He nodded, although the smile dimmed considerably and his brow furrowed.

"That is, unless you don't want to, of course?"

"No, I'd...I'd love to!" She quickly replied, afraid she may have ruined the moment. "Sorry, I'm just a little, I dunno...Surprised... That's all."

"Surprised?" Now it was his turn to look confused.

"Well yeah. I didn't really expect you to come and find me."

"Were you planning on coming to the feast anyway?" he asked, looking her up and down, seemingly for the first time. "Because you look beautiful, by the way." He smiled that perfectly crooked smile of his, and she felt the colour rushing to her cheeks. "I only ask because it just seems odd that I come out here to find you all dressed up for such an occasion, but apparently having second thoughts...don't tell me the great Lady Dante is afraid?"

"Of course not," she replied sharply, forcing herself to stand taller. "I was...simply wondering if this dress was the right choice...or if perhaps I should go and change."

"What's wrong with it?" he asked. "I think you look perfect."

Not really sure how she could reply to that, she dropped her head and smiled as her cheeks coloured even more. Trust Gwaine to have this effect on her. She needed to set him straight before he got any ideas.

"A word of advice, Gwaine," she spoke after a moment to collect her thoughts and force her voice to be filled with an arrogance and contempt that masked the fact she was flustered by his mere presence. "Your charms - such as they are - ceased working on me at least ten years ago."

She bit her lip then, afraid she may have hurt his feelings, but she needn't have worried.

"A challenge?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement, mischievous grin reaching from ear to ear.

"A statement," she corrected flatly, looking back up sharply then turning away before she faltered and he saw her true feelings.

"We'll see," he grinned, stepping up behind her once more and speaking into her ear, his breath warm against her neck and sending a tingle down her spine.

"So, will you give me the pleasure of your company at the feast, Milady?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice after a long period of silence, his expression unreadable. And then, almost as if afraid that she would turn him down, he added, "Humour me."

Turning back to face him, she smiled and nodded. "For the King's benefit," she told him sternly, and he nodded.

"Of course. You're here for Arthur only. My charms and godlike beauty having nothing to do with it at all."

"Shut up," she laughed, unable to keep a straight face any longer, as she looped her arm through his. "Lead on then, SIR Gwaine."

Matching her grin as the door was opened, he led her into the busy, vibrant and colourful world of Camelot's nobility.

"As you wish, My Lady

"I'm still not your Lady."

"We'll see."

...

Tristan, Leon, Elyan and Percival were standing together in a group near the King's table, chatting idly about weapons and preferred training methods as they waited for their fellow knight to return. But there was only so much that even THEY could talk about, before the conversation began to run thin and needed changing.

So Tristan being Tristan opted for a bout of Gwaine Bashing. That was always fun, and had proven to be the highlight of most mundane patrols, recently.

"So, any bets on Gwaine being rejected by the Lady?" he asked after a moment of awkward silence as they all shuffled their feet, looking into their half-empty goblets.

"Nah, Gwaine's a ladies' man," Elyan replied, shaking his head. "I'm not betting against him this time."

"Come off it, have you seen the Lady Dante? You've got to admit, even Gwaine's gonna struggle with her!" Percival chipped in, relieved they had something fresh and new to talk about - even though he himself often kept out of most conversations, choosing to listen and observe rather than partake. But in this instance, not even he could resist.

"Gwaine's not called the 'Maidens Knight' for nothing," Elyan countered.

"Maidens Knight? Who calls him that?" Leon laughed, before nodding his thanks to a servant that was currently moving round their small group, refilling their goblets for them.

"The Ladies of the Court," Elyan said smugly, pleased that he knew something the others didn't.

"And you know this, how?" Tristan asked suspiciously.

"Having a sister who used to be a serving girl has its benefits. Didn't you know that the first place you ever go if you want to find out the gossip is to the servants?"

"They gossip about us?" Leon asked, affronted, and Elyan smiled smugly again.

"All the time, apparently. They're very favourable of us knights...well...maybe not you..."

"Take that back!" Leon exclaimed. Then he dropped his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. "Are any of them as pretty as the Lady Dante?"

"No-one can hold a flame to her, I'm afraid," Elyan made a show of sighing regretfully, though the huge grin on his face betrayed the fact that he wasn't sorry at all. Leon's face fell for a moment.

"Maidens Knight," he muttered, then started to laugh at the very idea of it. Soon the others had joined in as well, though if they were being honest, they could not deny that Gwaine always had been a particular favourite with the ladies.

Percival meanwhile, had turned away from his friends and was taking in the surroundings, whilst listening to their happy banter with only half an ear. As he looked around the room, he took in the rest of the crowd in their fine gowns and regalia. The King's birthday was quite an occasion, after all. Long tables were arranged in a U shape around the outside of the room, though still with ample seating for those who did not fancy dancing. Colourful tapestries hung all around, the grandest of them suspended behind Arthur and Guinevere's table in the centre of the U, and candles burned everywhere, in holders carefully spaced between all the beautiful food and in great candelabras that hung from the ceiling.

The guests, dressed in all their richest finery, milled and mingled between the tables, and all he could hear was the babble of competing conversations.

He was just beginning to wonder what was taking Gwaine so long, when he happened to glance towards the door and gasped. "Would you look at that!"

The others all stopped their chatter immediately and followed Percival's gaze. He was staring towards the entrance to the hall - and everyone in the room had suddenly stopped their conversations and joined the ogling. Elyan peered round Percival's huge shoulder to see what everyone was gawping at...

...and gawped right along with them. His heart was suddenly in his throat and his jaw on the floor.

Because the Lady Dante had finally decided to show herself, stunning the whole party into silence, it seemed. Either that, of he'd simply gone deaf to everything else around him.

She looked supremely elegant in a deep emerald dress, with a thin, semi-transparent emerald robe over the top - exposing a great deal of skin, whilst also preserving her modesty at the same time.

Both robes were drawn in at the waist by the most elaborate golden belt, fashioned in the shape of leaves, and the golden trim around the neck of the dress mirrored this design.

The gloves beneath the emerald robe were sheer and embroidered with the finest gold patterning, and her mahogany hair hung in long waves down her back and over her shoulders. Small beads had been woven into strands of her hair, sparkling in the candle light. They set the outfit off in a truly regal manner.

Dante, oblivious to the effect she was having on the crowd, tossed easy smiles around the hall, like dishing out hand-outs to the poor. She was clearly aware of everyone's attention on her, including King Arthur's. Gwaine walked beside her, basking in the attention that the pair of them were receiving, a smug and very satisfied smile glued firmly into place as he held her arm in his.

Eventually the pair walked over to the King's table and she bowed low to the King and Queen, pleased with the entrance she had made. A party was a party, after all, and some things were worth doing right, no matter what the occasion.

"Your Majesties," she smiled politely. Then she looked at Arthur in particular. "I am sorry for the intrusion to your festivities, Sire, but it seemed impolite of me to accept such hospitality without even introducing myself to you and your Queen. And, more importantly, I wanted to wish you a very happy birthday in person."

"Thank you," Arthur beamed, delighted. Gwen sat quietly beside him, pleasantly entertained and already finding herself liking this stunning young woman. "You are too kind."

"On the contrary, Majesty. It is you who is too kind...taking me in during my time of need and providing such wonderful hospitality. I am truly in your debt. If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, in any way, please inform me and I shall be more than happy to oblige."

"There is no need, Milady," Arthur smiled kindly. "You are a guest of Camelot. Though I am curious to your situation. Perhaps you can repay me with information?"

"It would be my pleasure, Majesty," she nodded readily. "Though with all due respect, it is not something I wish to discuss right now. This is your big day, after all. Who am I to interrupt?"

"Tomorrow then," Arthur declared, and although his tone was friendly, he left no room for debate. One way or another, he would find out what was going on.

"Tomorrow, Sire," Dante agreed, knowing there was no way she would be able to escape the inevitable, but merely prolong it.

Gwaine had been sending smug little glances towards his friends as they gawped and gaped in his direction during the entire exchange between Dante and Arthur, and now, sensing that their conversation had perhaps drawn to a close, he stepped forward slightly and cleared his throat, when suddenly the huge oak doors were thrown open and a man was escorted in by two guards.

"Your Majesty, this man claims to be an envoy of King Lot of Essetir," one of the guards spoke. The man knelt then, bowing his head.

"Your Majesty," he said in a deep gravelly voice.

Dante froze, her blood running cold and Gwaine saw the look of panic in her eyes.

"What is it?" he muttered quietly as the whole room fell silent.

But Dante didn't reply. She was already moving towards Arthur.

...

Arthur had never actually met Lot face to face before, so it only stood to reason that he would not recognize the man knelt before him now.

But Dante DID know Lot, and against all protocols, she moved round the table to stand beside Arthur as he and Gwen both rose from their seats.

"Sire," she muttered quietly to him. Guinevere shifted ever so slightly to listen in as well, as Arthur turned to her.

"That is not Lot's envoy," Dante continued in a hushed whisper.

"How do you know?" Arthur replied, also keeping his voice low.

"Because I spent eight years as Lot's slave, Sire. I, of all people, should be able to recognize the man himself, when I see him."

"You are saying that IS Lot?" Arthur asked incredulously, struggling to keep his voice down.

"I'm positive, Sire," Dante nodded.

Arthur cast a glance at Gwen then, as if searching for her advice. Gwen shrugged - the tiniest of movements that only Arthur and Dante could see. Then she nodded.

Arthur knew what she was telling him - the pair of them so close now that they no longer needed words to communicate - and stood up straighter. He motioned for Dante to step back behind him, a symbol of protection, which she obeyed immediately. He vaguely registered the movement of his knights as they quietly moved to stand on either side of the room, near their King, sensing that something was up, and ready to leap in without hesitation, should the situation demand it.

Lot noticed as well, but said nothing, still playing the role of humble messenger. But Arthur was no longer fooled.

"So, King Lot...you finally decide to grace Camelot with your presence," he spoke confidently into the room, and the man kneeling before him laughed, shaking his head.

"Figures the bitch would tell you," he spoke in his deep gravelly voice, rising to stand before Arthur once more, this time as his equal. "I am sorry for the deception, but if I had come as myself, you may have rejected this audience."

"Not at all," Arthur replied, forcing his tone to remain polite and formal. "Though I would have preferred you to come at another time, perhaps. We are in the middle of a celebration."

"I noticed, Sire. Your birthday, is it not?"

"It is."

"Then happy birthday to you. Or should I be paying my sympathies, instead?"

"For what?" Arthur asked suspiciously. All around him, the knights bristled like attack dogs straining at the leash, waiting for the single word that would release them, whilst the nobles cowered away, sensing some kind of confrontation between the two Kings brewing.

"Was it not on your very birthday that your father was murdered?"

Arthur clenched his fists at this comment, but Gwen placed a hand on his shoulder and he visibly forced himself to relax, choosing the high road and not rising to Lot's taunts.

"What can I do for you, King Lot?" he asked eventually, forcing himself to sound polite yet confident.

Lot did not speak immediately, but instead clasped his hands behind his back and puffed out his chest - an intimidating gesture, considering he was twice Arthur's age, twice Arthur's build and towered a few inches above the King.

But then, Arthur wasn't intimidated...not really. While he may have been shorter, slimmer and younger than the King, Percival and Leon were not. Percival's shoulders alone were twice the size of Lot's, and both knights were a good foot taller. Arthur made a point of glancing towards them and both men puffed out their own chests, allowing their cloaks to fall open to reveal the swords looped through their belts. Behind them, Gwaine, Tristan and Elyan all reached for their own swords and Lot visibly deflated, realising that intimidation would not work.

So he decided on a different tactic instead.

"You have something that belongs to me, Arthur Pendragon. I am formally requesting that you hand her over."

He looked pointedly at Dante then, as she tried to hide behind Arthur. It didn't take Arthur long to piece everything together.

The marks on Dante's wrists...the state she'd been found in...Lot's timing...the fact he'd asked Arthur to 'hand HER over'...

"You are referring to the Lady Dante then, I presume?"

"Lady?" Lot scoffed, and from her position behind the King, Dante's teeth and fists clenched in anger.

"She is mine by rights. She was sold to me eight years ago, and as you have not paid for her, she does not belong to you. So please, hand her over and I'll be on my way. There need be no trouble between us, My Lord."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Arthur feigned regret as he clasped his own hands behind his back and began to pace. "You see, slavery is outlawed, here in Camelot. As such, the Lady Dante was set free upon her arrival, and her contract to you has ended. If it pains you so much to 'lose out' on such a 'precious' investment, then I will repay you tenfold what she is worth. But no matter what happens tonight, the Lady Dante will not be leaving with you."

"You sound so sure of yourself, Arthur Pendragon. So high and mighty," Lot laughed. "What is to stop me from taking her by force?"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Lot found himself faced by a wall of knights, fore fronted by those of the Round Table Order, who had placed themselves behind Arthur, and between him and Dante - an impenetrable wall of chainmail, scarlet cloaks and gleaming swords.

Lot backed off then, hands held high, in a defensive manner. From his position at the front of the wall of men, Arthur glared at Lot.

"If you want her, you'll have to go through us first."

"Wow," Dante breathed quietly, truly touched by the loyalty and fierce dedication of the men standing before her. She knew none of them - none except Gwaine, that was - and already they were willing to fight to protect her, placing themselves between her and danger. She'd expected this of Gwaine, naturally, but not of the other knights.

Gwen glanced at her from behind the table where she had remained this entire time. She smiled, petting Dante's hand as it gripped the wooden back of one of the other chairs so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Hidden by the wall of knights, this gesture went unseen by everyone except Dante, and those stood behind the table. Dante smiled back, finding reassurance in Gwen's kind eyes.

"You're safe here," the Queen told her quietly. "No-one is going to let anything happen to you - least of all Arthur."

"But I'm just a stranger...a guest in your kingdom..." Dante whispered back.

"No," Gwen corrected kindly. "You're a friend of Gwaine. And any friend of Gwaine is a friend of Camelot."

Dante wanted to say something else then, but was cut off by Arthur's loud, confident voice ringing out into the hall. "Sir Vidor, Sir Caridoc...please escort Lot from the Kingdom. He has outstayed his welcome."

"You'll pay for this, Arthur Pendragon. Mark my words!" Lot swore as the two knights stepped forward from the wall to escort him away. When he didn't immediately move, they took an arm each and began to drag him, eliciting shouts of rage, all the way down the length of the hall, and out beyond.

His shouts were finally drowned out when the huge oak doors closed once more, and Arthur turned back to Dante.

"You may come out now, Milady," he spoke gently as the knights spread back out into the room once more, the sea of red parting as Dante took Arthur's proffered hand and allowed him to lead her out from behind the table.

Taking advantage of the fact that nobody was speaking, and all eyes were still on him and Dante, Arthur turned to the audience of nobles, knights, guards and servants alike, who had all come to celebrate his birthday.

"Let it be heard and known, with you good people as my witnesses," he called out into the silent room, "That from this day forward, the Lady Dante is under the protection of Camelot! No harm shall befall her within these walls, and you will all pay her the respect and honour of a woman befitting her station. Any threats made against her will be reported to myself or my Queen immediately, and anyone making threats against her will be suitably punished."

He motioned for Dante to step in front of him then, and took both her hands in his own. "You are one of us now, Lady Dante. You need fear no more."

Dante choked back tears, and nodded, unable to physically say anything. Then she bowed low to the King. "Thank you, Majesty. I do not know how to even begin to repay you."

"Promise me that you will explain what is going on, and I'll consider us even," Arthur smiled as finally, the feast got underway once more, the music started up again and slowly the room filled with excited chatter - the incident with Lot giving everyone much to talk about.

"I promise," she nodded solemnly. Arthur let go of her hands then, as Gwaine finally came over to her.

"Enjoy the feast," Arthur told her. "Or at least, what's left of it."

"Likewise Sire," she nodded, before allowing Gwaine to steer her away toward the Round Table Knights, looping her arm back through his once more.

Elyan cast Tristan an 'I told you so' look as they drew nearer, and Tristan glared, glad that this time, he had not placed any coins on the wager. Otherwise he'd once again be out of pocket, to Elyan's favour.

...

The evening continued and the festivities only increased as the wine began to flow a lot more freely than it had done to begin with. Lady Dante, after recovering from the shock of Lot's dramatic appearance earlier in the evening, actually proved to be a most entertaining guest indeed - particularly when she entered friendly banter with others. She could certainly hold her own in any verbal battle, and her bouts with Gwaine proved to be the most entertaining, simply because of their past history together, and the fact there was still a chemistry between them, edged with enough electricity and tension that people could not help but find themselves drawn in to each and every 'polite' argument or 'difference of opinion' that the pair seemed to continually have. Copious amounts of wine probably had something of an effect on the pair of them, too, so that both were in high spirits when the evening finally drew to a close.

Dante did not regret attending the feast for one moment, despite the interruption earlier, and actually felt rather good about everything, all things considered. She was now an official member of Camelot, and everyone had sworn to protect her. What more could a girl ask for?

Gwaine escorted her to her assigned rooms after the feast, and after making sure that she had everything that she needed, he left her with a parting kiss on the back of her hand - a very chivalrous gesture, she had to admit.

Being a knight definitely suited Gwaine more than he'd ever admit.

As she changed into the delicate silken nightgown that had been left out for her by one of the maids, she thought back on the evening - in particular her meeting with King Arthur, and the way he'd so determinedly stood up for her, despite not even knowing her.

Sitting at the small dresser beside the window, she began to unthread the delicate beads from her hair, then ran a brush through it to smooth out the kinks. Finally she went round the room extinguishing each of the candles, except for the one beside her bed.

Sinking beneath the covers, she let out a long sigh, her eyelids already growing heavy. Today had been a long day, to say the least.


	5. A Nice Ride

**Author Note: Two chapters in one day? Go me! lol. Anyways enjoy as always, and welcome to the party serial blogger! Glad you're liking it, and you'll have to wait and see what the deal is between Dante and Gwaine, lol.**

...

The first Dante knew of morning was when the door to her chambers opened, then closed again with a loud bang. This being a guest room of the Citadel, it was only made up of one room, compared to the luxury quarters of the Citadel's inhabitants, who had two rooms - the outer chamber and the bed chamber. This meant that whoever had just entered her room, also woke her with a start.

She grumbled something incoherent as she disentangled her head from the sheets. It was meant to be 'go away', but evidently it hadn't come out like that as whoever had come into the room still hadn't left again.

She grabbed the sheets and pulled them up again, retreating, but the sheets apparently had other ideas as they separated and spread in all directions. She peeped over the sheet still covering most of her torso and saw that there was a young woman about her own age – or perhaps younger – standing in the doorway. She had a bob of dark hair and a round face with a dot of a nose and wide brown eyes. She was also dressed in a maid's uniform.

"Excuse me, Milady," she said awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but in Dante's general direction, whilst at the same time doing her best not to make it look like that was what she was doing. It appeared she was just as embarrassed as Dante was. "Sir Gwaine told me that the room was empty and that you'd left earlier for a morning stroll, so I could make the bed. I didn't realise you were still asleep."

"I wasn't," Dante lied. Then as she sat up, still clutching the sheet tightly to her neck, she groaned in pain and squinted her eyes shut as her head suddenly exploded with a tremendous headache.

"Something wrong, Milady?" the maid looked alarmed, but Dante forced a smile as she eased her eyes back open once more.

"Just a little too much to drink last night."

"Ah." The maid nodded in understanding but said no more.

Dante squinted her eyes closed again as pain tore across her temple. It felt like her head was being battered by a sledgehammer. When the pain dulled enough for her to open her eyes once more, the maid had gone, leaving her to dress alone, though she had laid out a very resplendent scarlet dress and cloak equally as decorative as the emerald gown from the evening before, yet also just as practical for the everyday wear of a noble.

Wondering if this was another of Morgana's old gowns, Dante rose and dressed quickly in the beautiful gown. If it was the Lady Morgana's, then she and Dante had near enough the same figures, because whilst the dress was slightly loose about the waist, it fitted perfectly otherwise.

Deciding to wear her hair loose again today, she ran the brush through it a few times, cracked the window open and breathed in a few deep breaths of the fresh morning air, then sighed.

There was a clatter of hooves down below and she saw two horses being walked into the courtyard by their respective grooms. They stood petting and fussing over their charges as King Arthur strode out, dressed in a deep blue shirt and dark leather jacket, prepared for a morning ride, it would seem. But if he was alone, then who was the other horse for? Dante assumed that Guinevere would join him momentarily, or perhaps even his manservant Merlin, and as such, she was not prepared for the knock on her door.

Strangling the cry of fright before it could escape her lips, she composed herself quickly and turned as the door opened and Merlin's head peered in.

"I'm sorry Milady," he smiled apologetically. "But Arthur thought perhaps you could join him for a ride this morning as it is a nice day?"

"Me? Ride with the King?" she asked, stunned. Merlin nodded.

"Of course, if you don't feel up to it, I can - "

"No! It's fine!" she cut in quickly, sensing the perfect opportunity to get Arthur alone. "It's not exactly like I have anything else to do this morning, anyway. Could you perhaps tell his Majesty that I will not keep him long?"

"Of course," Merlin smiled, obviously relieved that he was delivering good news to the king, rather than bad, and hurried from her chambers again.

Taking a sip of the water that the maid had also kindly left for her on a tray upon the table, she then grabbed the scarlet cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders, fastening it quickly with the decorative clip as she hurried from her room and hoped that she could remember the way down to the courtyard. Her head was still pounding, but she hoped that a nice brisk ride through the kingdom may help to clear it up.

Five minutes later, however, she had to admit that she was already terribly lost in the huge Citadel. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Percival round the corner, looking deep in thought. When he saw her, however, he smiled politely.

"Milady," he bowed his head as he walked past. She smiled back at him for a moment, wondering briefly where he might be off to. And then she remembered that she was supposed to be getting to the courtyard.

"Sir Percival!" She called, backtracking a few steps and hurrying to catch up to him. He stopped and turned, amazed that she was even talking to him. She blushed sheepishly. "I...ah...I'm afraid I'm a little lost. Which way do I go to find the courtyard?"

He looked relieved, as if he was certain she'd been going to ask him something else - though she had no idea what.

"Go to the end of this corridor and take a left, Milady. Then you'll come to a set of stairs. At the bottom, take another left, then a right and - "

Seeing her blank expression as she failed the take any of that in, he smiled and extended an arm towards her instead. "If I may?"

"Oh no, it's alright," she started quickly. "I'm sure you have better things to do than escort me in the opposite direction to the one you were going."

"It's alright, Milady," he smiled again, and she could not help but smile along with him. This was the most she had ever heard him talk! Granted she'd only met him yesterday evening, but even then, he'd not exactly stood out from the crowd, and had barely strung more than two words together all evening. She'd assumed rather foolishly (in the merry state she'd been in after several cups of wine) that he was perhaps nothing more than a dumb brute, hired for his strength and muscle alone. Now, however, she saw quite clearly how wrong she was.

If anything, Percival appeared to be quite a shy, reserved man. And she could respect that. Just like she respected Gwaine's chivalry (though of course, she'd never admit that to him).

"If you are certain, then I would be most grateful, Sir Knight," she nodded, looping her arm through his, though she had to reach up more than usual, simply because of his imposing and very impressive height. Most men only stood a few inches taller than her. Percival was at least a foot taller, and then some.

Feeling the powerful muscles of his forearm rippling as he relaxed his fingers, she knew that he definitely was not a man to be messed with. Arthur had done well to recruit him as a knight of Camelot.

And so Percival, the strong silent Knight of the realm and one of Arthur's inner circle, escorted her very carefully down to the courtyard, engaging her in polite conversation the whole way. She knew he was merely forcing himself to make conversation, but she was also glad of it. The whole situation would have been more than slightly awkward otherwise.

Finally they stepped through a large oak door, out into the massive courtyard of the Citadel, and Dante could not hide her expression of amazement. It seemed that Camelot was full of surprises, because the courtyard, although fairly plain and mundane, filled with the busy hustle and bustle of life in Camelot, was also, in its own unique way, extremely beautiful.

Arthur had been waiting patiently by his bay horse, muttering to the very highly strung animal to calm its nerves when Percival walked her over. He beamed in delight when he saw her, then cast a curious glance to Percival, who bowed to his king, kissed the back of Dante's hand, then turned and strode off again without another word.

"My apologies, Sire. I got lost," Dante said quickly as she dropped into a curtsey. But Arthur shook his head.

"Not at all. It is a pretty confusing maze, I'll admit."

"Thankfully Percival was kind enough to show me the way."

"He's a good man," Arthur nodded as the black horse was brought forward by one of the grooms. Arthur petted the horse's neck fondly.

"I hope you do not mind such an early morning invitation?" He asked. And then a thought crossed his mind and he frowned. "I hope Merlin did not wake you?"

"No, I was already awake when he arrived," she said again, and this time it was no lie, as she HAD been awake when Merlin had knocked. She'd just been woken by a maid a few minutes earlier. But she decided to keep that to herself, not wanting to get the poor girl into trouble because of that idiot Gwaine. "And a ride sounds...great, sire. Though I am a little surprised that you would invite me alone without...ah...anyone else...?"

"I thought it would give us time to talk," Arthur said, lowering his voice as the groom stepped closer to sort out one of the stirrup leathers, making it ready for the respective riders to mount their horses.

"Ah," Dante nodded, pleased. "Very wise, Sire. And by the way, may I say how grateful I am for everything you did last night. You did not have to..."

"I didn't like the way he was talking about you, so I had to do something. I could not stand back and let him get away with it," Arthur explained. Then he passed the reins of his horse back to the groom before cupping his hands and bending a little beside the second of the two horses - an invitation to help her into the saddle.

Not wanting to offend him even though she was perfectly capable of getting on a horse (getting on the horse was easy...STAYING on it was another matter!) Dante allowed him to help her into the saddle.

"Then I am eternally grateful, Sire."

"As I said last night, explain what is going on, and I'll call us even." He smiled, petting the black horse's silky coat "Perhaps I should introduce you to Gringolet by the way. He's Gwaine's horse. He very kindly offered him to your possession for the morning."

_Gwaine again_, she thought, not sure whether to be pleased or annoyed by this latest in the long line of small gestures that he seemed to be making for her. Was he just trying to make her stay here as comfortable as possible? Or did he have an ulterior motive? She suspected the latter, given their past, but she couldn't be absolutely sure. Not yet, anyway.

"He's magnificent," she smiled, running a hand along his muscular neck and down his shoulder, feeling the raw power beneath. "The horse, I mean," She amended quickly when she saw Arthur's raised eyebrow.

"And fast too," Arthur grinned as he swung expertly into the saddle of his own horse. "I hope you can ride, Lady Dante, because I won't go easy on you."

"Is that a challenge, Sire?" She asked, raising her own eyebrows as she adjusted her grip on the reins and her seat in the saddle. The grooms finished adjusting the various straps and leathers, then stepped back, satisfied that the two riders were all set. Arthur glanced at Dante, grinned mischievously and dug his heels into the sides of his mount. The horse whinnied in excitement and bolted forwards with a clatter of hooves.

Not wanting to fall off straight away and make a fool of herself, Dante clicked her tongue and nudged her heels lightly into Gringolet, thinking to take it easy to begin with. But Gringolet had other ideas and bolted forward with even more enthusiasm than Arthur's horse, if possible. Dante was by the King's side again in seconds, despite his head start, and as she gripped a hand full of Gringolet's silky black mane to try and keep her balance, the King and his guest cantered out of the courtyard, through the lower town and out into the open lands beyond. As soon as the traffic of people and carts thinned and the dirt roads and buildings were replaced by rolling fields and trees, they broke into a full on gallop (to Dante's abject horror), racing side by side away from the Citadel and all the protocols expected of Arthur as a King.

...

"So how is it that a Lady such as yourself fell victim of slavers?" Arthur asked casually as the pair of them rode through the forests some time later - Arthur only breaking the silence between them once he was sure that they were safely away from any eavesdroppers.

Dante glanced at him curiously as she let Gringolet have the reins so he could pick his own way over a particularly uneven patch of forest floor. Then she sighed, extending an arm, sleeve rolled up to her elbow, to allow Arthur to see the red raw skin and grazing. "I...I was sold into slavery by my very own father. Eight years ago, as Lot said."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, and spoke with genuine sincerity, looking upon her marred skin with utter disgust, as if the very idea of slavery repulsed him. "Why would he do such a thing?"

And then a thought struck him and he shook his head. "No, don't answer that. It's too personal. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Sire," she smiled, taking her arm back and rolling the sleeve back down. "I have never spoken of this to anyone before, true. But...perhaps it would be good to talk about it for a change. I have kept it bottled up for so long now...Besides, I made you a promise that I would tell you everything..."

"Please, do not upset yourself," Arthur insisted, already afraid he may have upset her. But she shook her head again.

"It's alright," she repeated. Then she appeared to consider for a while about the best place to begin with her explanation. "As I said, my own father sold me into slavery eight years ago. He and Lot had been mortal enemies for as long as any of us could remember, and after my brothers were killed by Lot, I became the last remaining child of my father. My mother had died when I was five, so if anything were to happen to me, my father's whole dynasty would collapse and fall apart. He cared nothing for me, however. He only cared that I live long enough to carry on his family name. So, in an act of surrender, he offered me to become Lot's wife and end the feud - effectively securing our families and the expansion of his dynasty - seeing as Lot was next in line to the throne after Cenred."

"An arranged marriage to Lot sounds better than slavery," Arthur commented, ducking to avoid a low branch.

"Now that I look back on it, that would have been the better option, I'll admit," she smiled ruefully. "But back then, I was a fiery, stubborn eighteen year old. The idea of marrying a man I didn't love was as barbaric to me as the idea of kissing a wilddeoren. Besides, you've met Lot. Even you've got to admit, Sire, that the man's a total jouster."

Arthur chuckled at this particular comment, and even Dante allowed herself to laugh a little. But then she sobered again as they splashed across a shallow stream and Gringolet slipped slightly on a rock. She dropped the reigns and grabbed huge clumps of his mane, desperate just to stay on his back and Arthur couldn't help but notice that she wasn't exactly as comfortable in the saddle as she'd first made out.

"Everything alright, Milady?"

"I'm fine," she nodded back quickly, as Gringolet found sure footing once more and she gathered the reins back up.

"Are you sure? If you're not comfortable, we can turn around now?"

"No, no, it's fine," she insisted, trying to look like she knew what she was doing. Then she sighed and shook her head. "It's just...well...I fall off horses. It's this thing I do."

Arthur didn't know what to say then. For someone as perfect as Dante, having such a flaw was unexpected, to say the least. But then she began to laugh, and he found himself laughing with her.

"I know, I know," she nodded, apparently reading his thoughts. "I should be good at this riding business. But hey, nobody's perfect...right?"

"Right," he laughed, nodding. Then he smiled kindly. "You're doing very well, considering."

"So anyway, Sire. You were saying?" She asked, eager to steer the topic away to something less embarrassing, before he cheeks could turn an even brighter shade of red.

Arthur thought for a moment, trying to remember what they were talking about before.

"We were talking about Lot being a total jouster..." She supplied helpfully, seeing him falter for a moment.

"Ah yes. So I assume you did not marry him then."

Dante shook her head.

"I refused. So Lot gave me an ultimatum. If I did not marry him, he would take me as his own personal slave, instead. After all, the daughter of his enemy as his personal slave was a fine trophy. I would much rather have made his bed each day, than lie in it with him, and I told him such. So, from then on, I became his personal slave. Though had I known how terrible it would be, I would have agreed to marry him without question."

"He treated you badly?" Arthur asked, the stirrings of a terrible anger in his voice, all humour gone now. Dante nodded, but said no more, and Arthur knew then, that some things were better off left unspoken.

"How did you escape?" he asked at last, needing some way to divert his anger at her unjust treatment before it became too much for him to control. After all, if there was one thing he could not stand above all else, it was cruelty. And Dante was just another in the long line of victims that Arthur had met over the years.

"Every evening he would chain me to the wall in the corner of his bedroom, so that he could keep an eye on me, apparently. And he always kept the keys on his belt, which hung at the end of his bed, just out of my reach. One evening, the belt slipped from the hook when he kicked it in his sleep, and I was able to reach it, though I almost broke my wrist doing so. But I managed it, snatched the keys and didn't look back - stole his horse from the stables, though it would have been faster on foot, given the amount of times I fell off."

Arthur wasn't sure if she was joking then, or being deadly serious, so he forced himself not to smile, just in case.

"Three hours later, the alarms were sounded by one of the other slaves, and Lot sent his men after me. Hearing the dogs they'd sent out, the horse spooked and threw me, just outside Ealdor. I took refuge with a woman named Hunith, who was very lovely and kind. She spoke of her son, who had come to Camelot, and apparently loved it here. She said I'd be safe here, too, under your protection. So the next morning she pointed me in the right direction. That was where I was heading when your knights found me."

"Hunith?" Arthur asked curiously. "Merlin's mother's called Hunith. And she lives in Ealdor."

"She said her son's name was Merlin...any relation to your Merlin?"

"The same man, actually." Arthur grinned. "Small world."

"Indeed it is, Sire," Dante grinned along with him.

For the rest of the morning, they discussed many things together as they rode through the kingdom - though the main topic of conversation was based around Dante's recovering health, and how she'd obtained the cut across her stomach.

"One of the bastards got too close. A lucky swing with a dagger," she'd explained when Arthur had questioned her. This then led on to the topic of weapons, and which they preferred.

Dante, as it turned out, was, whilst not exactly a skilled fighter, able to at least defend herself in combat and was also an avid fan of the re-curve bow. Arthur claimed it to be an out of date weapon, and tried to convince her of the benefits of using a crossbow instead, but she insisted that she'd been taught to use the bow by her brothers when she was very young, and it was now what she was most comfortable with in combat - not that she strove to find herself in combat often.

And she was also able to wield a sword with enough skill to survive, at least, though again, she never went 'looking' for trouble. It always seemed to find her.

Arthur agreed that he knew that particular feeling very well, and had stated an interest in seeing Dante fight someday, maybe even give her a few tips and lessons, if she'd allow him. She promised him that when she felt up to it, she'd challenge him to a duel in the training grounds, and he laughed, stating that he'd hold her to that promise.

Then they'd discussed fashion - particularly the trunk of Morgana's clothes and jewellery, which Arthur insisted that Dante take off his hands, as a favour to him. Knowing that the chest was probably full of many more exquisite gowns like the emerald and scarlet ones, she simply could not refuse, and Arthur promised to find her a much more suitable set of rooms for her to stay in, from now on, seeing as it was likely that she would become a permanent resident of Camelot, now that she knew she would be safe from Lot.

By the time they returned to the courtyard, just after lunch, the King and his guest were conversing like good friends, and Merlin was glad to see that the Lady Dante was already fitting in well. However, he was also more than a little worried about how friendly the pair of them seemed to be already.

What would Guinevere say if she saw the way they were acting around one another - not like a King and his guest, but as two very good friends, who had no difference in status or title - much like Arthur and Gwen had often been around each other in private, when they thought no-one was watching.

And not only that, but he couldn't help the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there was more to Lady Dante than she was letting on.

If only he knew how right he was...


	6. Waiting For A 'Friend'

**Author Note: Hey guys, just a short chapter to keep you all going. I'm so glad you're all loving it (at least I assume from the fab reviews I've read so far that you are), and I'm actually having loads of fun writing with Dante - she's become quite a fun character to write with, though I'm not sure if that will be a good thing or not, if you know what I know about her, lol. (Though I'm going to be quite mean and NOT tell you everything about her...at least not yet. Just the odd slip of information here or there should bbe enough to keep you coming back for more...how mean am I? Mwahahaha)**

**But anyways, here you go...Dante's true colours are finally revealed. And for all those who are suspicious of her...you're right to be...double mwahahaha!**

**...**

For the rest of that day, Dante spent her time trying to memorise the layout of the Citadel. Arthur was right about it being a confusing maze, but once she'd learned where the key areas were - Gaius' tower, the throne room, dining hall, armoury, Arthur and Guinevere's chambers and so on - she began to find little signs and symbols that told her what part of the Citadel she was currently in.

For example, Arthur had kept to his word and found her new and bigger chambers than the ones she'd spent the previous night in, and he'd had the trunk of clothes delivered there, also as promised. Now, when she needed to find her rooms, she knew that you had to ascend a staircase towards a huge griffin statue in front of a window. Then you had to walk a few paces along the corridor, turn left before an archway and ascend another winding staircase. This led to her new chambers, which consisted of a bed, a table and chairs, large decorative drapes, a wardrobe and a dressing table. The colours were all pastel, and the furniture was elegant, yet dusty. Clearly these rooms hadn't been used for a very long time.

To combat the dust and dirt of the room, Arthur had also gone one step further and allowed her the privilege of sharing the Queen's handmaiden until a more permanent one could be recruited for her personal use. The ironic thing was that the Queen's handmaiden happened to be the same girl who had woken Dante earlier that morning.

When she'd been introduced by Merlin, the poor girl, whose name happened to be Tamina, couldn't stop apologising. In the end Dante had jokingly threatened to fire her if she didn't stop, and the poor girl had taken this as a literal threat rather than a joke. But she was good at her job, and really very nice once you got to know her, so Dante didn't mind, and actually decided that she and the girl might get on quite well...as long as she didn't hinder her plans, that was.

And speaking of plans, by now it was early evening, and Dante still had not heard word from a certain 'friend' about where and when to meet. She'd promised that as soon as Dante had found her way into the Citadel, she would make contact. So where was she? Where was her sign, or her signal?

"Something wrong, Milady?" Tamina asked as Dante stood in front of the window, looking down at the square below, cup of wine clasped lightly in both hands.

Startled, Dante turned to the maid. "No. No, I'm fine," she said eventually. "Just thinking, really."

"Anything I can help with, Milady?" Tamina asked as she pulled the covers back on the bed and lit the candles around the room.

Dante smiled, but shook her head. "It's nothing. Really." And then another thought crossed her mind as Tamina began to stoke the fire. "I can do that if you need to get going. Don't want to keep her majesty waiting."

"It's fine, Milady. Honestly. The Queen will still be dining with the King right now, so I have time."

"Do they always keep such regular timing?" Dante asked curiously, before taking a sip of her wine, thoughtfully.

"Most days," Tamina nodded.

"Interesting," Dante muttered quietly, storing this useful bit of information for later use. Then, a little louder, she said, "Perhaps someday you can talk me through their typical routine?"

Seeing Tamina's confused look, she quickly added, "Well, I wouldn't want to disturb it in any way. If I know what they usually do and when, I can make sure that never happens."

"Ah, of course, Milady. Perhaps you would like me to talk you through it now?"

"If you have time, that would be perfect," Dante smiled as she took a seat beside the freshly stoked fire. So, whilst she continued to work about the room, removing the last traces of dust, Tamina told her both Arthur and Guinevere's usual routines, and Dante listened intently, memorising it all as much as she could. At least this would now make slipping out of the Citadel that little bit easier when it was required.

"Will that be all Milady?" Tamina asked at last, and Dante nodded, breaking out of the reverie she'd been in without even realising.

"Yes, thank you Tamina. You've been most helpful. I could have done this all myself, you know. There really was no need."

"With all due respect, Milady, you've done more than your fair share of work," Tamina said as she headed for the door. This caught Dante's attention and she turned in the chair to face the maid.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen the marks on your wrists, Milady. I'm sorry if it's not my place, but..." She paused, appearing to consider for a long moment. And then she rolled up her sleeve to reveal scarring round her own wrists. "I was a slave once, too. I know the marks when I see them, Your Ladyship..."

Dante sat stunned for several long seconds, unsure of what to say. Tamina rolled her sleeve down again, afraid she'd just offended her mistress, and bowed low with a mumbled apology, aiming to remove herself from the situation before she could make it any worse. As she got to the door, however, Dante finally snapped back to her senses.

"Tamina!" She called, standing quickly from the chair.

The maid froze in the door, suddenly afraid. But when she glanced back at Dante, all she saw was a relieved smile on the young Lady's face.

"Thank you," Dante nodded.

"For what, Milady?"

"For understanding."

Tamina allowed herself to smile then, as well, and left the room much happier than she'd been a few moments before.

Dante sank back down into the chair, poured herself another cup of wine and sat watching the flames in the roaring fire dance about and cast flickers of light and shadow throughout the steadily darkening room.

She had no idea how much time had passed as she sat and watched the flames dance, almost in a trancelike state. Likewise, she did not hear someone approaching from behind until a hand dropped lightly onto her shoulder.

She shrieked in alarm, darting out of the chair so quickly that the cup of wine spilt everywhere.

As she clutched a hand to her chest, as if trying to still her racing heart, she turned to squint into the darkness. A soft, amused laugh replied from the shadows, and Dante visibly sighed with relief, recognizing the laugh, even though it was not something she heard often.

"Someone's a little jumpy this evening."

"Milady, I was not expecting you," Dante spoke, still trying to overcome the sudden shock, even as she dropped to one knee on the cold stone floor, head bowed.

"I told you I'd be in contact when you managed to find your way into the Citadel, did I not?"

"You did, Milady. Forgive me for doubting you."

Glancing up, she watched as Morgana Pendragon emerged from the shadows, lowering the hood of her dark cloak and smirking in amusement as she looked down upon the young woman bowed before her.


	7. Morgana's Request And Gwaine's Bad Day

**Author Note: Ok, this is gonna sound weird, lol, but Gwaine and Morgana are my two favourite characters from Merlin, yet they are also the two I find the most difficult to write. Don't know why...maybe it's because, being my favourites, I don't want to get them wrong...or maybe I'm just afraid to. Who knows? Anyways, I hope I do justice to their characters, but as I said, I find them the hardest to write - which is a bit of a pain because they are two of the main people in Dante's life. Hmmm.**

**Keep up the fantastic reviews as always, and hope you enjoy this next chapter. Poor Gwaine's really not having a good day...**

**(Oh and something I forgot to mention earlier...little bit of trivia for you. In the legends, Sir Gawain was often referred to as the Maiden's Knight because he was a fierce champion of women and children, and was the most honourable and chivalrous of all Arthur's knights. So there you go...hands up how many of you knew that? lol)**

...

"So, Arthur believed your story?" Morgana asked as she ran her fingers along the silky drapes of the bed.

"He did, Mistress. And Lot's little stunt yesterday at the feast has strengthened the validity of it too. No-one has cause to suspect that it's nothing but a lie.

"Good. Good. And Arthur has accepted you as his guest?"

"He's accepted me as a Lady of Camelot and ordered his knights to protect me," Dante replied, with a slightly smug grin. Morgana spun round to face her then, surprised.

"Then you have done better than expected, my acolyte. Well done."

"Thank you, Milady." Praise from Morgana was a rare thing indeed, and Dante made sure to savour the moment for as long as possible, even as she knelt on the cold stone.

Morgana laughed then, ruefully. "Next he'll be making you First Lady of the Court, no doubt."

"Milady?" Dante frowned, unsure what Morgana was talking about.

"Well, he seems to be giving everything else of mine to you, why not my former title, as well? After all, not only has he given you my old clothes - which fit you incredibly well, I have to admit - but you have taken over my chambers as well," Morgana commented as she walked slowly round the once familiar room, pausing by the window to glance out at the street below.

"These were your chambers, Milady?" Dante asked, still kneeling on the floor, waiting for permission to rise again. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's not a problem," Morgana replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Rather amusing, actually."

"Amusing, Milady?" Dante frowned, not quite understanding.

"Amusing," Morgana repeated thoughtfully as she moved to stand in front of the mirror and study herself for a moment. These days she barely recognized herself - but considering she was a whole new person now, that was to be expected. Glancing in the reflection to see Dante still kneeling on the floor, she made an upwards motion with one hand - the permission that Dante had been patiently waiting for without complaint for the last fifteen minutes.

"Amusing," she said again at last, turning away from the mirror in time to see a bow of thanks from Dante. "That Arthur believes it to be so easy to replace his own sister."

"Nobody can ever replace you, Mistress."

"But Arthur believes that he can. This room is so alien to me now - there is nothing left to tie it to me. He's made sure of it. What does that tell you, Lady Dante, when your own brother denies your very existence and does everything he can to erase you from his life?"

"That he is a fool, Mistress. A fool who is making a terrible mistake."

Morgana said nothing then, as she paused beside the fire, looking into the dancing flames. "It would be so easy to burn this whole kingdom down without a second's thought, right here, right now," she muttered, toying with the flames in the fireplace by wiggling her fingers in the slightest of movements and causing them to leap higher, or die down to barely an ember, before leaping higher again.

"Then why don't you, Mistress? Why wait, when it is that easy?" Dante asked, confused.

"Because, my young acolyte, nothing is ever as it seems," Morgana replied eventually as she left the flames to settle back to their original state, and turned on Dante instead.

Instinct was telling Dante to bow again, and whilst she did not understand the reasoning, she'd learned to trust her instincts long ago. So she dropped to one knee, head bowed once more - as if kneeling before a King. "Then what would you have me do, Mistress?"

"Have patience, my friend. Bide your time, weave yourself into the very fabric of Camelot and keep yourself out of trouble."

"But, I thought I was here to be your eyes and ears? To...to make Arthur's life hell, on your behalf?"

"You are. But not now. Not yet. As I said, bide your time, Lady Dante. Have patience. You must earn the trust of the Kingdom first. Then, and only then, will you be ready to move on to the next step. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Milady," Dante nodded. She dimly registered the soft sound of a silver chain rattling, but did not register the movement until Morgana had stepped forward and dropped something round her neck. Feeling the suddenly heavy object pressed against her chest, she glanced down to see a silver pendant with several circles engraved on it, like the ripples of a droplet in water - each circle bigger than the last as they spread from the centre. And in the very centre of the pendant was a sapphire in the shape of a droplet of water, just to finish off the whole effect.

"A reminder," Morgana explained as Dante studied the pendant. "The droplet represents you, and the circles are the ripples that each of your actions make. Every act has a consequence. The bigger the act, the further the ripples spread. But until I tell you otherwise, there is nothing else aside from you, in your world. Arthur Pendragon does not exist until I say he exists. Sir Gwaine does not exist until I say he exists. As your skills within these castle walls increase...as your reputation is built and your trust secured, you will progress to each new circle. Each new circle will bring you closer to retribution and to our long sought after revenge."

"I understand, Milady," Dante nodded as she tucked the pendant down inside her top, feeling the cool metal press against her bare skin - oddly comforting and reassuring. "It is a beautiful gift. Thank you."

"Then you know what you must do, Lady Dante?"

"I do."

"Good. Do not fail me."

"I will never fail you, Milady."

"Never say never, Lady Dante. Never say never."

Dante opened her mouth again to speak, then blinked in surprised as she cast all about the room in confusion. Morgana had vanished, seemingly into thin air, and Dante was once again alone.

The door opened and Tamina hurried back in with a mound of blankets, pausing and frowning in confusion when she saw Dante scrambling to her feet again.

"Begging your pardon, Milady...was I interrupting something?"

"Nope," Dante smiled quickly, thinking fast and holding out the earring she'd quickly pulled from her ear. "I just dropped an earring, that's all."

"Ah," Tamina nodded knowingly as she placed the pile of blankets on the end of the bed. "It's going to be quite chilly tonight, Milady, so the Queen requested I bring you some extra blankets to make sure you are comfortable."

"How very thoughtful of her. Please give her my thanks," Dante spoke as she walked over to the dressing table and removed the other earring, placing them both back inside the small jewellery box where she'd found them earlier that day.

"I shall, Milady. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"Very well. Have a good night, Milady."

"Likewise Tamina. Thank you."

As the maid left, Dante once again sat herself in front of the fire and pulled the pendant back out to study it properly, tracing each circle with her fingers. "Patience?" She asked herself quietly. "I have patience. I can bide my time and act like a good little Lady...I'm sure I can..."

Who was she kidding? This was going to be so much harder than she'd ever expected!

Because if there was one thing the Lady Dante severely lacked, it was patience!

...

As luck would have it however, Dante actually didn't have long to wait to make a name for herself about the place. A week later, she was presented with an opportunity that was simply too good to miss.

As Morgana had instructed her to do, she'd been making herself useful about the Citadel, introducing herself to all the nobility and making new friends - basically getting to know everyone, including their traits and habits, their likes and dislikes, their social circles and whatever else she could find out without asking too many suspicious questions.

People did not seem to find this odd, and had welcomed her to Camelot with open arms, believing her to be a very polite and beautiful young lady. The knights, in particular, seemed to be falling over themselves to help her whenever possible, particularly the five knights of the Round Table - Tristan, Elyan, Leon, Percival and, of course, Trouble with a capital T (also known as Gwaine).

He'd been hanging round her like a bad smell at every given opportunity, presenting her with flowers to 'brighten her chambers', escorting her to places when she admitted that she did not know where to find them, offering her the seat beside him at mealtimes, and so on. Had she not been so stubborn and still mad at him because of their past, she may have accepted these tokens of his and maybe even allowed him to court her. But, their past was too big for her to ignore. And besides, why should he get it easy? If he wanted her back, she'd make him work for it.

And this was when the opportunity presented itself to her, as she watched him and Arthur train down on the front lawns, one day. Gwaine had caught her watching him from the wall above, and had loudly declared to Arthur that he would not be wearing his chainmail anymore, because he did not need it. Arthur had scoffed and told Gwaine that actions like that would get him killed, but Gwaine was only out to impress one very particular person, and glancing up to follow the knight's line of sight, Arthur could see why.

"Milady!" He called up to her. "Won't you come and join us?"

"With all due respect, Sire," she called back. "I have a pretty good view from up here."

"Come on," Gwaine called up then, digging his sword into the grass and pulling off his shirt, basking in the sunlight. "Humour us."

She appeared to consider for a long time, and both men seriously thought she would turn them down. But then she nodded and stepped away from the wall, heading towards the steps that led down onto the lawn.

As they waited for her to arrive, Arthur scowled. "For mercy's sake, man, put your shirt back on!"

"Afraid of a little competition, my King?" Gwaine grinned as he flexed his muscles, rolling his shoulders and stretching.

"From you?" Arthur laughed, as he pulled off his own chainmail and padded undershirt (though choosing to leave his white linen shirt on), tossing them towards Merlin, who was smirking in amusement. "Never."

By now, Dante had joined them, and was standing beside Merlin, as the two men took up their swords and began to circle each other once more, each twirling their weapons in impressive displays of swordsmanship, their moves far too fancy to actually be of any use in a real life combat situation. But both had become enthralled in a silent battle of skill, determined to show off to their audience.

"Are they always like this?" Dante asked Merlin sceptically as she watched them both spin and twirl their blades, causing streaks of glinting silver to encase them as they moved.

The young servant laughed. "Only in the presence of beautiful women."

Dante coughed, feeling the colour rise to her cheeks. Merlin glanced at her and grinned, dumping the heavy chainmail on the ground at his feet. He had to admit, it was rather hot, standing out here in the midday sun, and he was sorely tempted to remove his jacket. But what would Dante think if suddenly every single man around her began to remove his clothing?

"You look hot, Merlin," She commented, as if reading his thoughts.

"Just a little," he admitted.

"Well you might as well take your jacket off. Everyone else seems to be doing the same." Was that a hint of bitterness in her tone? Clearly she was unimpressed by the display that was being put on in front of her.

"I did not wish to offend you, Milady."

"I've known Gwaine pretty much my entire life, Merlin. I was even engaged to him at one point. So put it this way, it takes a lot to offend me, these days. Take of your jacket it you want. Don't want you collapsing from the heat." Even as she spoke, she herself removed the purple cloak she'd donned earlier that morning when black clouds had threatened to bring rain. An empty threat, as it had turned out.

"You were engaged to Gwaine?" Merlin gasped, stunned, as he joined her and removed his tan jacket, dropping it on the ground beside Arthur's chainmail.

"Don't sound so alarmed, Merlin," Dante laughed as she hung her cloak from one of the spears resting in a nearby weapons rack. "It WAS ten years ago."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

Dante leaned back against a wooden railing that someone had propped a few shields against, and folded her arms across her chest, squinting against the sunlight and the flashes of silver as light bounced off both Arthur and Gwaine's swords. Finally, the pair had entered into a proper duel, swords clashing together loudly.

"I was sixteen," She spoke at last. "Too young to be getting married...in my opinion, anyway. And Gwaine? Well, he had his whole family situation to deal with. He left me one evening to beg Cenred for help, and never returned. At first I thought him dead. It wasn't until later, one of my brothers told me that he'd actually gone 'travelling' as he put it, to clear his mind after Cenred refused to help. And by travelling I mean moving from one tavern to another, drinking himself stupid and getting into fights. I guess he got a taste for the roguish lifestyle, because he never came home. He did write to me once, apologising for leaving the way he did, and stating that I'd probably be better off without him, but that was the last I ever heard of him...until I came here."

"I thought there was something between you both," Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "I just had no idea what. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Dante shrugged. "I've moved on...learned from my mistakes. Gwaine hasn't, but then, I doubt he ever will. And that's his problem, not mine."

"I wish I'd been in the woods when you punched him, though," Merlin grinned, and Dante failed to keep a straight face then, laughing with him.

"He fell like a sack of potatoes." She actually giggled then, like a little girl once more, and wow, did it feel good!

"What's so funny?" Gwaine asked as he and Arthur finally walked over to join them, both sweating profusely from their fight. And it was only then that Dante actually had no idea who had won, because she hadn't been paying attention. From Arthur's triumphant grin, however, she guessed it must have been him.

"Just telling Merlin here how you were beaten by a girl," she shrugged casually.

"I was not!" He protested a little too quickly. "You just...caught me off guard."

"That's funny, I thought the Knights of Camelot were always prepared for anything," Arthur joined in, before taking the flask of water that Merlin offered to him and taking a long gulp.

"I'm sorry, it was very rude of me," Dante replied sincerely, stepping towards Gwaine and running one finger down his bare chest, from shoulder to stomach. He tensed, and a shiver ran down his spine as she moved slowly round behind him, one finger still trailing across his bare flesh and muscle.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to physically breath as she leaned in close and her breath tickled his ear.

"Gotcha," she whispered.

And then something that felt suspiciously like a booted foot slammed into the back of his knee, which buckled under the impact and he felt his stomach drop. He opened his eyes to find himself looking up at the cloudless sky above, and in a daze, his muddled mind tried to figure out WHY exactly he was lying on the floor. And then the sounds of roaring laughter broke through the confusion. Sitting up, he saw Dante standing over him, a very smug grin on her face, whilst Arthur and Merlin could barely contain their tears of laughter. Across the field, the other knights were roaring with laughter, too.

"Every time!" He snapped, indicating to the others that this was not the first time she'd pulled that trick on him...and it most likely wouldn't be the last, either.

"I thought you'd learnt never to turn your back on me?" she laughed.

"And I thought you'd grown up!"

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, seeing his wounded expression, though he knew that she wasn't sorry at all. In fact, he could clearly see it written in her eyes.

"No you're not," he grumbled, pulling himself back to his feet and brushing off the dry grass, as he retrieved his shirt.

"Gwaine, don't be a spoilsport," Arthur chided as he picked up a quarter staff from one of the racks and threw it towards the knight, who caught it deftly. "Finish your training. THEN you can go and sulk."

"I don't sulk," Gwaine pouted as he adjusted his grip on the staff and stepped away a little. Then he beamed again, back to his old self. Or so it would seem. "Be warned, Sire. I won't go easy on you this time."

"At least you're keeping your shirt on," Arthur retorted back, good naturedly as he picked up another staff and moved to join Gwaine. "That's a start, I suppose."

"I am merely thinking of the Lady Dante," Gwaine grinned, throwing a not very subtle glance in her direction. "This heat, plus my body...well, it's a recipe for disaster. We can't have her fainting on us again, can we."

Dante sighed and rolled her eyes but chose not to rise to his taunts this time.

And so Arthur and Gwaine began another duel, this time with the wooden staffs, which cracked loudly - even louder than the swords, if possible. And Dante watched as this time, it appeared that Gwaine was finally getting the upper hand. Though she'd seen her brothers duelling enough times when she was younger to understand that Arthur was, in fact, letting the other man win. He was holding back.

But then Gwaine miss-timed a shot and cracked Arthur's knuckle instead of the staff. The King howled in pain, dropping the staff and gripping his wounded hand to his chest in agony. Mortified by what he'd just done, Gwaine dropped his own weapon and ran towards the wounded King.

Dante saw the attack coming, long before it happened, but chose to say nothing. If Gwaine was as good as he claimed, then he'd have seen it too.

CRACK!

Apparently not.

Gwaine fell to the floor as Arthur twirled the staff in his good hand, still clutching his wounded hand to his chest. When he'd dropped the staff, he'd made sure to keep it within reach of his foot. As Gwaine had rushed over, Arthur had planted his toe under the staff, kicked it up in the air, caught it and swiped Gwaine round the head, knocking the knight flying.

"Never drop your guard, Gwaine," he reprimanded, before walking back towards Merlin and Dante, who were both laughing again in amusement. Poor Gwaine. This really wasn't his day.

As Merlin tended to Arthur's hand, Dante waited for Gwaine to rise so that she could taunt him some more. But he didn't.

He remained very still, sprawled face down on the dry grass.

She stopped laughing then and stared at him, suddenly frightened. Glancing across to Arthur, who appeared unconcerned as Merlin wound a strip of cloth over his knuckles, she turned and rushed to Gwaine's side. "Gwaine? Gwaine, are you alright?"

Gently, she turned him over. He seemed so serene and still, a thick bruise already forming on the side of his temple.

"Gwaine," she called to him again, her voice threatening to crack with a sudden and unexplained emotion, brought on by the sight of seeing him wounded.

But then his face twisted into a perfectly stupid expression and he burst out laughing. And that was when, as she heard Arthur's laugh too, she realised that it had been a trick, all along - though perhaps the King had hit him a little harder than intended...but for an evil trick like that, he deserved it!

"Oh!" She cried, and she punched out at him again. He caught her hand this time and pulled her in close, and she willingly crashed on to him, wrestling furiously.

Gwaine finally managed to roll her over and pin her, and she stopped struggling, suddenly aware of the closeness. She looked up into his deep brown eyes and felt the press of his body upon hers.

Gwaine blushed and let go, rolling away. Then he stood and very seriously reached his hand out to her, as Arthur cleared his throat.

"When you've finished wrestling my knights, Lady Dante, I believe you made a promise to me?"

Dante frowned for a moment, as did Gwaine.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking suspiciously between Arthur and Dante, just as she remembered what it was she supposedly promised the King.

"Oh! That's right!" She beamed. And then she pouted. "I'm afraid these clothes are simply no good, Sire. I couldn't possibly duel you in a dress. Would give you such an unfair advantage."

"Fight?" Gwaine repeated, looking between the pair, dawning realisation appearing. "Oh no...no no no, you can't."

"Why can't I?" Dante challenged.

"Because you're a - " Gwaine started, but suddenly broke off mid sentence, realising he'd been about to put his foot in it big time. But, it was already too late, and Dante scowled, folding her arms across her chest.

"Because I'm a what, Gwaine? A woman?"

"No!" He protested quickly, trying to think rapidly of a way to get himself out of this mess. "That's not what I meant! What I actually meant was...ah...that it's because you're a ...hmmm...well, see, the funny thing is...it's actually because you're a..." he glanced at Merlin and Arthur then, and whilst Arthur looked suitably amused by the knight and his floundering, Merlin was deep in thought. Gwaine saw this and leapt at the chance to save himself.

"It's because...well, Merlin, tell her why she can't fight. It's because she's ...?"

"Because she's - I mean YOU are..." Merlin floundered, just as stumped as Gwaine to provide a valid explanation.

"What he's trying to say IS that it's because you're a woman," Arthur laughed eventually.

"I know," Dante smiled back. "I just like to make him squirm."

"You! You...you...why you..." Gwaine once again floundered, this time unable to create a complete sentence because of his anger, rather than a lack of suitable excuses. "You are a terrible person!" He exclaimed eventually, and Dante grinned smugly.

"I know." Then she turned to Arthur. "Needless to say, I cannot fight in a dress."

"No, that would not be wise, I suppose," Arthur nodded. "Another time then, perhaps?"

"Another time, Sire," Dante agreed. Then glancing up towards the battlements, where Gwen had wandered out with Tamina by her side, Dante grinned to the group of men.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I promised Her Majesty I would go to the market with her this afternoon."

"Have fun, Milady," Arthur grinned, bowing his head to her.

Merlin also bowed, but lower than Arthur, as he also wished her a good day.

Gwaine just huffed, and muttered something unintelligible, nodding his head towards her.

"Grow up," she scolded him quietly as she walked past, back towards the steps, where Gwen was now waiting for her.

Gwaine said nothing, but equally could not tear his eyes from her until she had disappeared out of sight. Then he turned back to Arthur and Merlin, ready to bash the living daylights out of something - or as Merlin now feared from the look in the knight's eye - someone.

Someone called Merlin, most probably.

The look in Arthur's eye confirmed this, and the young warlock gulped.


	8. Dante Likes To Cause Trouble

**Author Note: Hey everyone. I'm not sure when I'll next be able to update after this for a little while...I've got a few things that need sorting out, etc, so I may be able to post another chapter soon, I may not...it depends. So anyways, here's a longer chapter for you all, to keep you going until then. **

**Enjoy :)**

**...**

The marketplace was so vibrant and colourful, full of the hustle and bustle of people going about their daily business or simply browsing the various stalls, much like Guinevere and Dante were now doing. Tamina had excused herself a few hours ago, stating that she still had chores to complete in the Citadel, and leaving the Queen and Lady alone together. This had allowed them plenty of time to chat, and the more Gwen found out about Dante, the more she respected the girl.

And Dante didn't always lie to her either. Sometimes she actually told Gwen the truth, which was quite refreshing for a girl who's whole life up until then had been one constant lie. Besides, Gwen had no idea what was the truth and what wasn't, and she had no reason to suspect anything, either.

Had she known better, she would have realised, for example, that the fact Dante was engaged to Gwaine when she was sixteen - not a lie.

The fact she'd been Lot's slave for eight years - HUGE lie. She'd been his slave for a week, nothing more. And even then, it had been arranged between the pair of them, to add to her cover story. He'd let her go after 'roughing her up a bit' first, actually using real shackles to create the marks on her wrists, to add to the illusion.

Dante had also starved herself on purpose for the duration of that week, only eating when she'd felt faint, to add to her 'weakened' state when she'd finally stumbled into Camelot.

And when Lot had 'released' her, he'd actually sent dogs after her, forcing her to actually run for her life...the bastard. THAT hadn't been part of the plan, and she'd made a mental note to get revenge on him one day for it. The falling off of his horse hadn't been part of the plan either, but had made her story believable, never-the-less.

And then there was the little coup he'd performed at Arthur's feast. That hadn't been planned and had been as much a surprise to Dante as to everyone else!

However, thinking back on it now, Dante realised that he probably wouldn't have told her anyway, because her reaction had been the most important part of the whole plan. She'd needed to act natural, in order to be believable, so keeping the plan from her had ensured completely natural behaviour, on her part.

"So, what do you think of this one?" Gwen asked now, as she held a stunning piece of sapphire silk up to herself to imitate a dress, then twirled about in it for a moment. Dante quickly snapped from her thoughts, and grinned.

"It's beautiful, Majesty," she nodded. "Though I believe yellow may be more your colour."

"Yellow?" Gwen repeated thoughtfully, placing the silk back on the stall and hunting through the various swathes of material for anything yellow. Eventually she found a piece of satin cloth that was probably best described as canary yellow. "What about this?"

"Much better," Dante grinned. "Yellow is definitely more your colour, Milady."

"And what about you, Lady Dante? What is your colour?" Gwen asked as she handed over a small pouch of coins in exchange for the material. A guard stepped forwards, seemingly from nowhere to take it for her, reminding Dante that they were never alone, and after quickly giving him instructions to deliver the yellow satin to a particular dressmaker in the lower town, she turned back to hear Dante's answer.

"I don't know, exactly," she shrugged, rummaging through the materials herself. "Blue, perhaps. Or purple. I'm not really sure."

"Morgana always favoured blues and purples," Gwen sighed sadly. "Though she had her fair share of green, red and ivory too..."

"You miss her, don't you," Dante noted as she handed over another pouch of coins for the blue silk that Gwen had picked earlier.

"She was my best friend for many years," Gwen nodded. This was the first time she'd openly spoken about her former mistress to anyone since Morgana's second attempt to claim the throne, and she had no idea why she was telling Dante all this now. But for some reason, she found herself inexplicably trusting the girl.

"I don't understand what I did to make her hate me so much."

"You married Arthur," Dante stated simply as she picked up a strip of sapphire ribbon, twiddled it in her hands for a moment, then fished out another few coins, handing them over in exchange.

"Yes but, she hated me long before that," Gwen pointed out, and Dante shrugged.

"Perhaps it was always your destiny to marry Arthur, and Morgana knew this? She was a seer, was she not?" Dante shrugged, and Gwen thought about this for a moment. And the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

"How do you know so much about her?" she asked after a moment, and Dante froze. How the hell would she explain her way out of this one?

"It's mostly rumours," she tried eventually, but Gwen wasn't going for it.

"No...you speak about her as if you knew her personally."

"I...met her once or twice..." Dante hesitated, thinking on the spot. "When I was younger. My father and Gorloise had...a few, ah...well I don't know. Meetings, I guess you'd call them. Something to do with the politics of Essetir and Camelot anyway. While our fathers talked, Morgana and I would sneak out to the fields behind my house and sit in the apple orchard together. Only once or twice, though. She didn't join her father often when he came to the meetings."

"What was she like as a child?" Gwen asked, intrigued, and believing this to be the actual truth. Dante shrugged, seeing an easy way out of the conversation now, thankfully.

"To be honest, I can't remember. It was a long time ago, and a lot's happened to the both of us since then. I'm sure not even she'd recognize herself if she looked back now."

"No, I'm sure she wouldn't," Gwen agreed sadly. And before she could press Dante for any more information, Merlin happened to suddenly appear, seemingly from nowhere, unknowingly saving Dante in the process.

"Arthur's looking for you," he said quietly to Gwen. "Would you like me to escort you back to the castle?"

"I can manage, Merlin. But thank you anyway," Gwen gave him one of her usual friendly smiles, and he found himself smiling back. Then he turned to Dante as Gwen excused herself.

"Lady Dante? May I walk with you instead, perhaps?"

"Of course," she agreed, though she wasn't quite able to fathom WHY he'd want to walk with her.

"I...ah...I wanted to see how you were getting on," he said after a moment of awkward silence, the pair of them walking side by side.

"How very sweet of you," she replied, still unsure why he was walking with her. Surely he couldn't be accompanying her just to find out how she was 'getting on' with life in the castle?

But apparently he was. Based on the fact he was staring at her as if waiting for an answer, that was.

"Everything's fine," she told him, and for once this wasn't a lie.

"Good," he nodded. "That's...good."

They lapsed into silence again, and eventually Dante could stand it no more. "Merlin?"

"Mmmm?" He looked at her then, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you really walking with me?"

"I was just...making sure you're alright," he said quickly. A little too quickly.

"Liar," she replied good-naturedly, and he blushed, realising he'd been caught out.

Then he groaned.

"It's Gwaine's fault," he groaned eventually as they stopped before the gatehouse leading to the courtyard.

"What's he done now?" she sighed, choosing not to be offended by the fact that Merlin was not accompanying her because he merely wanted to, but because Gwaine was apparently making him.

"Well earlier on...after your little stunt in the training grounds...he...erm...he made a bet with the other knights that..." Merlin broke off then, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red.

"That...?" Dante prompted curiously.

"I can't say," he said at last, turning quickly to walk in the other direction. But she caught his arm and forced him to turn back.

"Merlin? What is it?"

"No, please...I don't want you to think badly about anyone. Just because of a silly bet."

"If it's just a silly bet, then what's the problem?" She asked, leaning against a nearby stone pillar and folding her arms across her chest - such a casual pose that it threw Merlin completely off guard.

He held his hands clasped firmly behind his back, bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of his feet, and he refused to make eye contact with her, looking down at the floor instead.

When he didn't immediately answer either, she raised both eyebrows this time. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll just have to find out from Gwaine what's going on."

"No!" Merlin started quickly, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

"Then tell me," she said gently. "You can trust me, Merlin."

That was when he melted under her gaze and spilled everything, babbling so quickly that Dante was only just able to keep up. Even then, she had to take a few moments to actually process his words, and Merlin blushed again, looking back down to his boots.

"So, let me get this straight," she said eventually, moving away from the pillar to pace in front of him a little. "Gwaine made a bet with the knights? He offered ten gold coins to whoever could win a kiss from me first?" Merlin's nod confirmed she was on the right track.

"And then he offered you ten gold coins to make sure that none of the other knights beat him to it, so that he would win the bet?"

Again, Merlin nodded.

"And it was only the knights who were involved in the bet? Nobody else?"

"Well...Gwaine never technically specified WHO was involved...it just happened to be whoever near him at the time," Merlin shrugged.

"And who was near him?"

"Well Gwaine, obviously, but also Percival, Elyan, Tristan..."

"And you?"

"And me."

He glanced up then and saw the mischievous glint in her eyes. And suddenly he felt very weak at the knees.

She started off into the courtyard, spotted Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Tristan returning from the training grounds over the opposite side, and grinned.

"Gwaine!" He heard her calling out. "I've got something to show you!"

"Oh really, My Lady? And what is that?"

_Uh-oh_, Merlin thought as she looked back at him, where he had remained hovering in the gateway.

"Merlin, would you come here a second?"

_No thank you_. He wanted to turn and run, but something made his feet move in the opposite direction, towards her instead of away from her. Stopping beside her, he saw the four knights gather close by.

And then he was being grabbed by the collar and pulled down until his lips locked with Dante's.

The sensible thing, he supposed as he heard four simultaneous gasps, would be to push her away. Unfortunately, what he actually did was kiss her back, one of his hands tangling into her dark hair whilst the other lingered on her side, touching her just enough for her to feel its warmth. She, in turn, wrapped her arms about his neck to pull him in closer.

It was a very good kiss, he had to admit.

Really quite an excellent one, if he was being totally honest.

When they parted, he couldn't help the stupid grin that appeared on his face then. His lips still tingled from the pressure of hers, and the look on Gwaine's face, in particular, was priceless.

"There's twenty gold coins for you," she muttered in his ear, on the pretence of giving him another quick peck on the cheek. "Use them wisely."

Then she turned and vanished into the castle.

Not only had Merlin's cheeks now turned brilliant red, but his ears had too. This didn't stop him from holding his hand out, palm upturned, however, as Gwaine stormed up to confront him.

Gwaine's mouth was still hanging just inches from the floor, and the look would have been quick comical, if Merlin's heart hadn't been pounding out such a frantic beat that it almost threatened to pound its way right out of his chest.

"Twenty gold, please," he squeaked, still unable to get his voice working properly from the shock.

"Twenty?" Gwaine exclaimed. "No way, the bet was for ten!"

"You bet the winner ten gold coins, and you offered me another ten to ensure that Percival, Elyan and Tristan did not beat you to it," Merlin grinned. "My name was never mentioned in the list of people who could not beat you."

Gwaine floundered then, his mouth opening and closing several times but no sound coming out.

The other knights, laughing madly at Gwaine's epic failure, passed the pair and continued on into the castle, and as Percival passed he clapped Merlin on the back. Merlin staggered forwards a few paces, laughing along with them as Gwaine very, VERY reluctantly pulled a small pouch from his belt. It jingled with the sounds of coins, and wordlessly, he tossed it in Merlin's direction, before storming off after his fellow knights, cursing under his breath.

Merlin laughed again, tossing the bag delightedly in the air and catching it a few times, hearing the satisfying clink of gold pieces clashing together inside the leather. Then he tied the bag to his belt and continued on with his daily chores, a spring in his step and a smug grin on his face that nothing could remove, for the rest of the day.

...

Arthur noticed this continued good mood of his servant later that evening, and couldn't help but comment, as Merlin collected the clothes that needed washing and the armour that needed polishing.

"You're annoyingly happy this evening, Merlin."

"I should be," Merlin replied from behind the huge mound of clothes.

"Oh really? And why should you be?"

"Because I've got the gold to pay back the debt on your tab from the Inn."

"Oh have you really? And how did you come about the fifteen coins, Merlin?" Arthur asked suspiciously as he lounged on his bed, arms behind his head casually.

"I won a bet," Merlin grinned round the mountain in his arms.

"And what bet was this?"

"One that Gwaine made."

"Merlin, you're being very vague! Was this bet exactly legal?"

"Oh absolutely!"

"And what did it involve?"

There was a long pause.

"Merlin?"

Another long pause.

"Merlin!"

Still no answer.

"Merlin, if you don't tell me, I'll have you put in the stocks for a week."

"I kissed Lady Dante."

Arthur sat bolt upright. "You kissed Dante?"

"No!" Merlin defended quickly. "Well, yes...I mean...SHE kissed ME!"

"And you got paid for it!"

"Yup," Merlin beamed. There was a chinking sound as a small leather pouch dropped onto the table, seemingly of its own accord.

Arthur leapt to his feet, hurried over and snatched up the pouch, emptying the contents into his hand.

"Unbelievable," he laughed, counting out fifteen gold coins and shaking his head in disbelief. "You know Merlin, just when I think you can't surprise me anymore..."

"Oh I have a few surprises up my sleeve," the servant grinned, and Arthur got the feeling there was something Merlin wasn't telling him.

"Oh yes? And what would that be?"

Before Merlin could reply however, there was a sound of swords clashing, from the courtyard below, and both men hurried to the window, fearing the Citadel was under attack. But if that was the case, then why had no alarm been raised?

This was explained moments later when they saw Gwaine fighting someone who looked suspiciously familiar. Someone with long brown hair, tied back with a black strip of leather.

Someone wearing a chainmail shirt that was far too big, breaches and leather boots, and who was also currently wielding a pair of short swords.

"Speak of the devil," Arthur frowned. "What on earth is she doing?"

"Erm...Pass?" Merlin finally shrugged. "Maybe Gwaine annoyed her?"

"I don't know," Arthur replied, watching very carefully as the two figures came together, both wielding a pair of short swords now. Gwaine appeared to be saying something to Dante, and when they broke apart, it appeared that he was showing her how to make certain moves. "It looks like they're...training? I thought she said she could fight?"

"Maybe she's intimidated by your skill, Sire?" Merlin grinned, doubting this very much. But Arthur shrugged, his eyes never leaving the pair in the courtyard below.

"No...there's more to it than that..."

...

Three hours earlier...

"I can't believe you kissed him!" Gwaine roared as Dante walked casually down the corridor to her chambers.

"Why don't you say it a bit louder, Gwaine. I don't think the neighbouring kingdoms quite heard you," she retorted back, highly amused by his reaction. This was definitely the most fun she'd had since arriving in Camelot, and she had no intention of letting her fun end so soon.

Neither did Gwaine.

Even though it wasn't fun for him.

Not even a little bit.

"What were you thinking?"

"What's the big deal, Gwaine. It's not like I shared a bed with the guy...though even if I did, what would it matter to you?"

She opened the door to her chambers, stepped inside, closed it firmly in Gwaine's face, then stepped over to the window.

"Five...four...three..." she counted to herself quietly. "Two...one..."

BANG!

The door crashed inwards so forcefully that it rebounded off the wall behind it and slammed shut again. There came a long, loud string of very colourful curses, before it was thrown open again (though not as forcefully this time).

"YOU KISSED HIM!"

Dante rolled her eyes as he stormed in and slammed the door closed behind him. "Yes, I kissed Merlin. Honestly Gwaine, what is the big deal?"

"The big deal? Dante! You and me - "

"Are no longer together!" She snapped, her good mood changing in an instant as she spun on the spot to face him. Suddenly this was no longer fun and games anymore, but something else entirely.

"You made sure of that when you ran off to lord only knows where and left me to believe that you were DEAD!"

"Cailan told you I was alive, AND where I was going! You could have followed me! But no, you chose to stay with your precious father in your little country estate!"

"BECAUSE I HAD NO CHOICE!" She stormed over to him then, and he actually backed away a little. He'd never seen her this angry before - ever. He must have hit a nerve.

Or five.

"Everything's a choice. Everything we do. Grow up!" He retorted, fighting to get the argument back under his control before he lost it completely.

And that was when he backed into the ornamental vase, knocking it flying. It shattered across the floor with an ear splitting crack, but she didn't even acknowledge it as she pressed one finger firmly into his chest, forcing him to rock back on his heels.

"Everything's a choice?" She repeated incredulously. "Tell me Gwaine, what choice did I have, when Cailan was MURDERED, the day after he told me you were still alive? What choice did I, as the last surviving child of my father, ever have?"

"Cailan was...oh." This was news to Gwaine. He'd known for some time that Dante's elder brother had been killed, but he'd never known exactly when. Cailan was the only brother he'd ever known, because Dante's eldest brother Alistair had died before Dante's tenth birthday. And she hadn't met Gwaine until she was thirteen.

Suddenly feeling the anger, and the desire to argue flooding from him, he turned his back and stalked over to the fire, finding some welcome comfort in the dancing flames as he braced his hands against the brickwork over the mantle.

"I had no idea," he admitted eventually.

"Yeah, well...why would you. It's not exactly something I go round telling everyone, is it." He could hear a tremor in her voice then and cringed. Something was telling him to turn round, but he knew that if he did, he'd regret it. So he fought the urge and kept his back to her.

...

Outside in the hall, Elyan and Tristan pressed closer to the door, trying desperately to hear what was going on within.

If looks could kill, Gwaine would have been sent down for murdering Dante about a hundred times, by now. After storming away from a very smug looking Merlin in the courtyard, Gwaine had followed Dante right up to her chambers on the third floor. The shouting had started sometime around the second floor, and Elyan and Tristan had been eavesdropping ever since.

Gwaine was in a foul mood, but then it appeared that so was Dante. And that was one hell of a temper she had on her! Both men had physically leaped in fright when she'd raised her voice for the first time, and then there'd come the smashing sound of a vase - or some other equally fragile object.

Fearing for the safety of their friend, they'd been just about to charge into the room, when the arguing started up once more. At least neither Dante, nor Gwaine appeared to be hurt in any way, so the knights held back from breaking the door down, just yet...though Elyan did keep one hand over the handle, just in case.

Thunderous footsteps came pounding up the stairs and rounded the corner. The two knights stared at a squadron of guards who stared at them in return, Leon and Percival at the head, swords drawn.

"Er…we thought we heard…" Leon started.

Elyan and Tristan shook their heads in unison, as Percival joined them, pressing his ear to the door - tall enough that he could lean over the other two without much effort. Leon also joined them, sending the guards on their way. Grumbling to each other, the guards relented and went back down the hall to return to their posts.

"So what's going on?" Leon whispered as they all listened.

"Gwaine made a bet, it backfired and Dante got some sweet revenge. Now Gwaine doesn't like it, and things have got quite personal," Tristan hissed, afraid to make too much noise in case he alerted the room's two occupants, who were oddly silent.

"Do you think she killed him?" Elyan hissed after several long moments of silence.

"Of course not," Percival replied quietly. "Dante would never..." And then he thought about it. "Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to check?"

...

They stood in silence for a long while, their backs to one another, the tension so thick between them that it actually hurt. Or perhaps all the shouting had actually been what had hurt and he was only now feeling the effects?

Neither of them heard the door creak open ever so slightly, so that four anxious heads could peer in. Seeing that there was no carnage or grisly murder scene within the room, they backed out again, closing the door.

Gwaine and Dante were oblivious to the whole thirty seconds it took for this to occur.

"Dante," Gwaine sighed eventually, unable to stand the silence any longer.

"Don't," she said, her voice barely audible. And then he heard a sniff, and his shoulders sagged as a tidal wave of guilt crashed over him.

She was crying. He'd reduced her to tears.

For a woman as fiery and stubborn as Dante, tears were a rare thing indeed. She always turned to anger, and tears were as a last resort, when she really could not take it anymore.

"Dante," he groaned, finally turning round, feeling utterly wretched and horrible. Crossing the room in four strides, he took her by the shoulders - which were visibly trembling, he noticed - and turned her round to face him.

Despite her best efforts to hold back the tears, her cheeks were already streaked and shining in the light of a nearby candle.

She was biting her lower lip, which was also trembling, and her eyes were already beginning to turn red and puffy.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, pulling her to him. She didn't resist and fell against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, the tears falling thick and fast now. He said nothing more, and just held her close, feeling each sob that wracked her body. His chin rested on the top of her head, and she nestled herself into his familiar embrace, suddenly afraid to let him go. This all felt so familiar to her, and in this strange place, which still did not feel like a home to her just yet, familiarity was something she never realised she'd been craving until now.

"Why are you so mad?" he whispered, holding her even closer, if possible - suddenly afraid to let her go.

"All I wanted was for you to come home," she muttered into his chainmail. "Was that so much to ask?"

"You never wanted me, Dante. You were just afraid that your father would marry you off to someone else if I didn't return," he reminded her gently. "You were just scared. Marrying me would have been a mistake anyway, and you and I both know it."

"Are you saying you were saving me, by running away like that?" So she wasn't denying that she hadn't been in love with him back then? Should he have been offended or relieved by that? After all, if she'd been in love with him, he'd have no doubt broken her heart, and that was a thought he could not live with. So perhaps it was a good thing, then?

"Is it making you feel better?"

"No...yes...sort of..."

"Then see it like this. I was doing it for you, to protect you. You didn't need a husband, you needed a friend. And by leaving you as I did, I gave you the opportunity to find your freedom...of a kind..." _Until you became a slave_, he stopped himself from saying, just in time.

"I guess," she sniffed, her arms finally relaxing round his waist and allowing him to breathe a little easier.

"So...this whole silly argument...?"

"What argument?" She asked, forcing a smile as she finally pulled herself away from him, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Am I forgiven for running out on you?"

"Only if I'm forgiven for kissing Merlin."

Gwaine shrugged then, chuckling a little. "Ah, the poor guy deserves a bit of good fortune every now and then. Just don't make a habit of it."

"As if," she laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not a tart, Gwaine. Even a former slave has certain standards."

"Glad to hear it," he nodded, heading towards the door. Then a thought struck him as he reached for the handle (allowing the four eavesdropping knights time to escape down the corridor to safety).

"If you DID have a thing for Merlin - because he's actually a great guy when you get to know him - I wouldn't stand in the way, you know. In fact, I'd be happy for you both."

"Gwaine?"

"Mmmm?"

"Shut up."

He laughed properly then, seeing his old, familiar, brilliant Dante returning to replace the fragile, broken woman he'd been confronted with just minutes before.

"That's my girl," he grinned, finally leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	9. Dante The Clothes Thief

**Author Note: Sorry for the delay everyone, been a bit of a manic week. Anyways, here's another 2 chapters for you - yes 2 chapters! lol. Glad you're all still enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it, and remember, reviews are always greatly appreciated. I love to hear what you guys think about Dante and the ideas you have! I try to include all ideas in my stories, wherever possible (and give the credit where its due, of course) so if any of you have any particular scenes you wish to see, let me know and I'll see if I can work them in to the general storyline somehow :)**

**Enjoy**

...

Two hours later, Dante felt even worse about the whole situation with Gwaine. Now there was so much going on inside her head that it felt like it was about to explode. One minute Gwaine had been ranting and raving about her kissing another man. THAT she could handle.

But then he'd turned things personal, and right now, that was the last thing she'd needed. Why did he have to be so complex? What did it matter if she hadn't loved him? She'd needed him...didn't that count for anything? But when she'd needed him the most, he'd let her down. Now here he was, back in her life again, acting like nothing had ever happened between them.

Everything crashed about inside her head like a storm in a teacup. And that incessant pounding on the door wasn't helping, either.

Wait.

Someone was knocking on her door?

Leaping up from her chair with a start, she quickly wiped away the last few tears from the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, then called for whoever it was to enter, hoping that she didn't look too much of a wreck.

And speak of the devil, Gwaine himself stuck his head round the door then, smiling softly. "May I come in?"

"Erm...sure..." she shrugged. She hadn't expected anyone to come knocking, and even if she had, Gwaine was certainly the last person she'd have expected anyway. She'd assumed he was off somewhere drowning himself in ale to take his mind off things.

"Is everything alright?" he asked after an awkward moment of silence. Dante turned her back on him again, so he couldn't see her face, but he knew that she'd been crying again anyway.

"No," she sighed truthfully, shaking her head.

"Is it because of our fight?"

"No," she said again, though this time he knew it was a lie.

"I didn't mean to hurt you..."

"It's fine, Gwaine."

"No it's not. If I upset you...if I hurt you in any way..."

"It's fine, honestly," she said at last, turning back to face him, her hands clenched into fists. She was clearly frustrated, and he felt his heart ache at the sight of her looking so helpless and vulnerable again. "At least I know where we stand now."

"And where do we - " he started once more, but she cut him off with a fierce glare.

"Please, don't go there again. Not now."

"But - "

"I think perhaps you should leave."

"No."

"What?" Her voice had dropped very low, and he knew that he was treading on very thin ice, but protecting people was part of his life now, even if it meant protecting them from themselves. And if he left Dante in this mood, he had no doubt in his mind that she would most likely do something stupid or regrettable. She needed help, whether she'd admit it or not.

"I said no."

"Don't you dare, Gwaine!" Her voice rose again in anger, but he stood his ground as she stormed towards him, looking for all the world like she was going to hit him. But she held back at the last second, realising that he was bigger and stronger than her, and that it would be a very unwise idea.

"Go on," he encouraged, holding his arms wide and inviting the first shot.

"No," she retorted, stubbornly folding her arms across her chest and turning away again. Then she unfolded them, then folded them again. "I don't want to."

"Of course you don't. Because you don't know what you DO want, do you."

She froze then, and he knew he'd struck the nail right on the head.

"What the hell would you know about what I want," she snapped eventually.

"I know nothing about what you WANT. But I know what you NEED right now."

"Oh really, and what is that?"

"To hit something."

"Like what?"

"Me."

"I'm not going to hit you!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!" She glared over her shoulder at him.

"Yes. You are," he said again, taking a step towards her.

"Why am I?"

"Because I'm going to let you."

Whatever retort she'd been ready to throw back at him never came, as she stared at him in surprise. "What?" she said at last, confusion replacing the frustration momentarily.

"You're angry. You need to hit something. So hit me. Come on, you've already done it once. What's stopping you now?"

"I'm not going to hit you," she repeated, though she sounded less sure now than she'd done previously - like she was seriously considering the idea, at least.

"You will," he promised, reaching out to poke her in the shoulder.

"Stop it," she growled, stepping back. But he simply followed, continually poking and pushing her, trying to provoke her.

"Stop it! Gwaine, I order you to stop! Enough! Stop it! Leave me alone!...PACK IT IN!"

When he refused, she clenched her fists once more, and he knew that he was getting to her. When she finally snapped, however, he wasn't quite prepared for how fierce her attack would be.

The fist to his gut had him bending double, gasping for air. It wasn't so much the fact that it hurt, as such. It was more the surprise of it. He'd expected her to go for his jaw again.

She now stood over HIM for once - breathing heavily, trying to control her anger. He grinned at her wryly.

"Is that the best you've got?" he taunted, standing up tall again and tensing, prepared this time.

She hit him again. And again. And again. He could feel all the anger and frustration draining with each blow, and finally she stopped, breathing hard, her expression softer, now...with none of her earlier anger left.

"Better?" he asked and she nodded, then sighed.

"You're a fool."

"Why?" he asked, smiling.

"Because you'll have one hell of a bruise in the morning."

His face fell then, realisation dawning. He'd never thought of that before. Still, at least now that Dante had vented all her anger, she was no longer a danger to herself or anyone else. So it was worth it, he decided eventually.

"I can live with that. But can you?"

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Your hands. How will you explain that?"

Glancing down, she realised that her knuckles had been ripped to shreds by Gwaine's chainmail and her hands were now soaked in blood.

"Oh," was all she could think to say right then, surprised that the pain had not yet registered.

"Look at the state of you," he sighed, reaching out to gently probe the back of her hand.

"Ouch! Gwaine!"

"You really don't know how to fight, do you."

"And your point is?"

"My point is, Dante...if you insist on getting yourself into these scrapes, then you'd better at least know how to survive."

"I've survived this far," she stated defiantly. "I know how to defend myself."

"Yes, but you're careless. You won't last much longer if you keep up this reckless attitude."

"Oh, and I suppose YOU could teach me?"

"As a matter of fact...yes. I could."

"Right," she scoffed, glancing own at her knuckles, gritting her teeth as finally the pain hit.

Gwaine noticed her wincing in pain and gently led her to the seat in front of the fire. "Let's get you cleaned up. And then I will teach you how to stay alive."

"I don't need your help."

"Just humour me, Dante. Please?"

Knowing that he was right and she was just being stubborn, she sighed and nodded. So far she'd been lucky. But someday her luck would run out - of this she was certain. So she didn't protest when Gwaine disappeared from the room to gather a few supplies from Gaius, in order to treat her wounds.

...

"Here," Gwaine said, returning again sometime later with a bowl of fresh water, an armful of bandages and some cloths. Setting them on the table beside the chair Dante was currently sitting in, he pulled out another chair, sat down and very carefully took one of her hands - the worst looking one. She must be right handed, then, as this was the hand she favoured most. Her knuckles were raw and painful, oozing blood each time she flexed her fingers.

"That's quite deep," he said, examining it. Every time he touched a certain area, Dante yelped in pain.

"Sorry," he muttered, reaching over to the table and grabbing a small bottle that had been hidden amongst the bandages. He popped it open and sniffed the contents, pulling a horrified face as Dante, oblivious to this, dipped a cloth into the bowl of warm water and very carefully began to dab and wipe at the dried blood around the wound.

Watching her for a few moments, Gwaine eventually took the rag from her with one hand and simultaneously tipped exactly four drops of the bottle's contents into the bowl.

"Now, hold still. Gaius said this might sting a little."

"What wi –" Dante started to ask, but was cut off mid-sentence by a sharp stinging sensation across her knuckles that was so strong, it brought tears to her eyes.

She squeezed her fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms, causing even more blood to ooze from the wounds, and her jaw was clenched so firmly that it hurt – but not nearly as much as her fists.

"OUCH!" She finally managed to gasp as the tears rolled freely down her cheek.

"Sorry. But I did warn you," he replied, raising her hand and kissing her fingers lightly. "Besides, better to be safe than sorry. Needed to make sure all the dirt was out."

Dante sank back into the chair, feeling suddenly very nauseous. She had to physically fight back the urge to throw up, and felt very light headed, needing to take several deep breaths, just to slow her racing heart and try to stop the trembling.

"Easy...easy..." Gwaine said gently, handing her the cup of wine she'd poured herself as she'd waited for him to return. "Here..."

It took her the best part of the next ten minutes to recover from the pain, but once it was over, she looked down to inspect Gwaine's handiwork, and couldn't help but be impressed, despite how agonizing the entire process had been. "You should have been a physician."

"Nah," Gwaine smiled as he placed a small wad of cotton over the cut, which didn't look nearly so bad now that it had been cleaned up. "Physicians don't get all the glory."

He began to wind a bandage round her knuckles, in a very meticulous way, so that – she was both surprised and pleased to find – didn't hinder her movement. He took great care in what he was doing, and Dante sat back, watching his hands move delicately as he tied off the loose end.

"What is it with men and glory?" She asked as he started on her other hand. "Glory above sense and above reason?"

"Don't deny that you finds knights more desirable than physicians," he challenged. Her only answer, however, was another cry of pain and he glanced down, realising that he was pressing the rag a little too firmly across the wound. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to - "

She glared at him, taking a rather large gulp of her wine, and he quickly decided that perhaps this was not the right subject, just now.

"So, what are you interested in learning?" he asked as once again, he very meticulously wrapped her hand in a bandage.

"What can you teach me?" Her teeth hadn't unclenched yet, so her voice sounded distorted, but he still caught the general gist of what she'd been asking.

"Well, how to stay on a horse, for one thing."

"Did Arthur tell you?" She groaned, but he laughed again, shaking his head.

"You forget that I've known you for nearly thirteen years. You never were very good at staying on a horse - even back then."

"What can I say?" she shrugged, failing to hide her grin. "It's a talent of mine."

"It certainly is," he agreed. "I've never met anyone as accident prone as you."

"Like I said...it's a talent," she shrugged.

"Yes well, that doesn't answer my earlier question."

"Which was?"

"What would you like me to teach you? Standard weapons would be too heavy for you - and yes, I'm saying it now. It's because you're a woman. Simple fact that you can't deny...women are not as strong as men. BUT - " He quickly added when he could see she was about to protest again. "Women are faster, more agile. I can teach you to use that to your advantage. So, I guess the question should really be what would you prefer? One weapon, or two?"

"You mean two together?" she asked thoughtfully. "That could be...interesting."

"Alright then. When do you want to start?"

Again she appeared to consider for a moment, before grinning at him. "Why not now?"

"Now? Dante, it's getting dark."

"And? It's not always going to be light. I can't pick and choose when I get myself into trouble."

He laughed again, shaking his head as he began to gather up the remaining rags and bandages, along with the bowl of scarlet water. "Sure you can use those hands?"

"Only one way to find out," she shrugged, flexing her fingers. "Besides, what's a few more bruises to add to the collection?"

"You have got quite a collection," he agreed.

"I've got so many bruises, they have names and families," she joked. And then she glanced him up and down for a moment. "Take your shirt off."

"Well hello there," his eyebrows rose suggestively, but she glared at him.

"I can't train in a dress...and dresses are all I have. Give me your shirt to wear."

"Ahem...I do believe the Lady is forgetting her manners," he teased, even as he began to undo his sword belt and slide the chainmail from over his head, followed by the padded and linen undershirts.

"Please?" she asked, batting her eyelashes and giving him huge puppy eyes.

"Damn it woman," he grumbled, unable to resist it whenever she pulled what he'd nicknamed 'that look'.

"I expect you'll be wanting my breaches next."

"Yes please."

Now it was his turn to give her what he called 'the look'. Though in his case, it was more of a smoulder. "In that case, come and get them."

He wasn't expecting the kiss, and froze in shock as she darted forwards, pressing her lips softly against his. As it lingered and deepened, and he lost himself in the moment, he didn't feel her hands undo the belt round his waist. Nor did he feel the sudden draft as his trousers fell round his ankles. As she broke away from him, a very satisfied smile on her delicate lips, and placed a hand on his bare chest (careful to avoid the already developing bruises) he realised his mistake.

"Dante!" He laughed in disbelief as she pushed him back onto the chair and began pulling his boots off. "Is now really the time for this?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, pulling his boots off, followed by his breaches. Then, sitting herself lightly on his knee, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned forwards. He expected another kiss and placed his hands on her slim waist, ready to pull her closer.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to tilt her head away and whisper in his ear instead as she ran a hand through his hair, sending a tingle down his spine.

"I'll meet you in the courtyard in fifteen minutes. Don't be late."

Then, rising from his lap, she slapped him lightly on the cheek, turned and walked away, leaving him sitting on the chair in nothing but his underwear as she went into her bedchambers, closing the door firmly behind her.

He sat speechless for several seconds, barely breathing. Then he snapped back to his senses.

"Spoil sport!" he called after her. And then all the colour drained from his face as he glanced down at his almost completely naked body. "Erm Dante? What am I going to wear?"

"I'm sure you've got plenty of clothes in your own room," she called back.

"Yes but, how do I GET to my room without being seen?"

"Run?"

"I'm in my underwear!"

"Then run fast!"

"I'm going to kill her," he grumbled, looking about for something in the room to help him. Unable to come up with anything even remotely suitable, he closed his eyes, counted to ten then darted from the room, praying that he would not be seen on the way. "I am actually going to kill her!"

...

"Who was that?" Gwen asked in confusion as something - or rather someone - streaked past her, Elyan and Percival. "And why didn't he have any clothes on?"

Percival and Elyan merely looked at one another knowingly.

"Gwaine," they both said in unison.

"Do I want to know?" Gwen asked.

"He annoyed Dante," Elyan explained.

"Well, Dante did start it," Percival corrected.

"Yes, but Gwaine didn't have to do what he did. Perhaps that's Dante's way of getting her own back?"

"Perhaps," Percival agreed.

Gwen stood looking between the two like someone watching a tennis match for a moment before eventually she interrupted.

"Shouldn't we do something?"

"Yeah," Elyan nodded in agreement, looking to Percival, who grinned. "Don't piss off Dante."

...

Inside her bedchambers, as she changed into Gwaine's stolen clothes, Dante couldn't help but smile in smug satisfaction, imagining the look of pure horror on Gwaine's face as he ran from her room.

There was something oddly satisfying about stealing a man's clothes, she decided. Especially when he was then forced to run through half the Citadel, just to get back to his own chambers, whilst trying not to be seen. Maybe that would teach Gwaine not to be so cocky in the future.

But then again, this was Gwaine.

So perhaps not.

Still, seeing what lay under all those layers of clothes wasn't exactly an unpleasant sight, and the thought brought a blush of colour to her cheeks. He certainly hadn't been so..._toned _ten years ago. He'd been a scrawny, lanky teenager, just a few years older than herself, with a pathetic attempt at a beard and no muscle what-so-ever.

If, ten years ago, he'd looked even half as good as he did now, she may have had second thoughts about not wanting to marry him. Whichever young lady's heart he stole one day...she'd be a very lucky lady indeed.

Not that Dante was jealous of course...

Well...

Maybe she was, a little. But he never needed to know that.


	10. No Control

"You cow," Gwaine grumbled as he stepped out into the courtyard twenty minutes later, fully clothed again in another chainmail shirt and carrying four short swords under one arm (each in a leather sheath to protect him from any accidental cuts).

"You're late," she retorted with a grin - a grin which quickly vanished when her hair got caught in the links of the chainmail. "How the hell do you move in this stuff?"

"I never said you had to wear it," he grinned, watching her struggle to free the offending locks of hair. "Perhaps you'd like ME to help YOU take it off, this time?"

"And give you the pleasure of seeing me in my undergarments? I don't think so."

"You saw me in mine!"

"And it was nothing spectacular, I can assure you."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!" She retorted, much too quickly.

"Yes you are. Your cheeks are bright red!"

"No! I'm just hot!"

"I know you are."

"Pack it in, Gwaine! That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean, I'm wearing five layers of clothing here! I'm boiling!"

"Five layers?" he asked, disbelieving as he finally hopped over the low stone wall to join her.

"The chainmail was too big," she grumbled, barely audible and clearly very embarrassed. "So I had to pad it out a bit with a few of the shirts I found at the bottom of Morgana's trunk."

Gwaine smirked, even though he found it incredibly cute all the same. "Well why not just wear Morgana's armour instead of mine?"

"Morgana has armour?" Dante exclaimed. "Oh for the love of -"

"You didn't know?" he grinned.

"Would I have stolen your chainmail if I had?"

"Well, I just thought you were being friendly," he replied, eyebrows rising suggestively again.

Dante tried to think of a witty comeback, but was currently at a loss for words. So she settled for taking one of the short swords that Gwaine was currently holding and attempting to hit him with it (even though it was still in its leather sheath)

Gwaine dropped the other swords in surprise and quickly brought his arms up in front of his face, in a defensive pose as he tried to block each blow, even as she forced him back several steps, before finally she relented.

"Very good," he nodded approvingly. "You're good at getting enough momentum and power behind each strike, but you've got no control, what-so-ever."

"No control? I'll give you no control!" She snapped, attempting to hit him again. Again, he was forced to block each blow with his arms, glad that he'd thought to bring the leather sheaths along and not just the swords.

"No control," he repeated when he was finally able to wrestle the sword from her. "And until you learn some, those swords are not seeing the light of day!" He glanced up at the star-filled sky. "Night! Not seeing the light of...I mean dark of...oh, you know what I mean! No sharp objects until you've learnt to control your temper!"

She growled something incoherent, but ultimately decided that she'd never learn anything if she was continually at odds with her teacher, so for the time being, she would become a good little student and do as he said.

Gwaine noticed this change immediately as he looped a toe under one of the swords on the floor and flicked it in her direction. She caught it, just, and when he'd thrown the second one to her as well, she stood awkwardly holding both weapons, waiting expectantly.

"That's better. Now, lesson one," he said, picking up the last two swords. "You can fight with one sword easily enough, but using two together is a whole other matter. You have to be constantly aware, not only about what your opponent is doing, but what you are also doing with both weapons. Whilst one goes one way..." he swung slowly for her head, making his move perfectly obvious to her and giving her time to react. Instinctively, she raised one sword to meet his attack with a parry. Gwaine smiled a wry smile - clearly he knew something she didn't.

"...the other can come from a whole other angle to catch your opponent by surprise," he finished, making a point of looking down.

Dante glanced down as well, seeing his second sword pressed lightly into her side. Her other hand hadn't even moved - not registering the movement as she'd been so focussed on the blade coming for her head.

Gwaine gave her an 'I told you so' look, and she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Alright, mind my surroundings. Got it."

She stepped back to put a bit of distance between them.

"Now, I'll come at you slowly with different attacks. Show me what you'd do in each instance."

She shrugged. That didn't sound so hard.

...

Fifteen minutes later, she was about ready to give in. No matter what she'd done each time, Gwaine had still managed to sneak in an attack that she'd never seen coming. And this was only slow motion fighting!

"I give up!" She snapped, throwing down both swords and turning to storm away. Gwaine sighed, then ran after her, catching up after only a few strides and grabbing her wrist.

"Wait," he said, spinning her round to face him. "You're not a quitter Dante. Don't give up now."

"But I can't do it!" She complained.

"Yes you can."

"I ca-" All further protests were cut off as he placed a finger to her lips.

"Yes you can," he repeated softly. "Just try again, and remember. Mind your surroundings."

"I've got a million things to think about at once! It's impossible!"

"Then don't think," he told her. "There's too much going on up here." He tapped the side of her head gently. "You're over-thinking everything. Just let it all out. Clear your mind."

"Clear my mind?"

"Don't think about anything."

"But if I'm not thinking about anything, then clearly I'm thinking about not thinking, which means I AM thinking!"

He blinked.

There was a long pause.

And then he grinned. "Just, don't think, alright. Let your arms move on their own. Let your instincts guide you."

Sliding the leather sheaths off each of the swords, he motioned to the shining blades that had just been revealed, now glinting in the moonlight.

"They're blunt, but they can still hurt. Now remember, don't think, alright?"

Clearly not convinced, she did as he told her anyway, and moved back a few steps, adjusting the grip on both swords.

_Alright_, she told herself. _Don't think. Think about nothing at all. Not thinking about anything...I'm not thinking about anything...my mind is as empty as...well, it's not empty because I'm thinking about not thinking and - SWORD!_

She ducked, surprised by Gwaine's sudden attack, then started to look for his next move. But he was moving so fast now that she didn't even have time to think about each attack. She found that her arms knew where to go, as did her feet, and she smiled ever so slightly. It seemed that Gwaine DID know what he was talking about, after all.

So she did what he'd told her to do. She let go, and let her instincts guide her.

...

An hour later, just ten minutes to midnight, to be exact, Gwaine called an end to their training session.

Dante had found the heavy chainmail too cumbersome and restrictive to move in, and had shed it some time ago. Then the thick padded shirt had joined it, followed by two of the three undershirts. Then the final undershirt had been gathered up at the bottom, twisted up and tucked back down inside the hem of the neck, holding it out of the way and revealing a fair amount of flesh at the same time.

This had not been Dante's intention at first, but seeing how much it distracted Gwaine, she'd used it to her advantage, whenever possible, from then onwards. Now, Gwaine could see just how athletic she actually was.

This was no Lady who sat inside all day, sewing and writing in her journal (or doing whatever else it was that Ladies were supposed to do). It was clear that Dante had already known hard work, in her young life. Whether it be slavery, indentured servitude, or just voluntary work, she'd definitely done her fair share of it.

Sweat soaked her shirt and ran in streaks down her arms, soaking into the bandages over her knuckles. It gave her pale skin a glossy sheen, outlining her every curve. Her lean muscles rippled and shivered with every movement.

But the poor girl was exhausted by now. Once she'd found her rhythm, Gwaine had pushed and pushed her to her limits, and then beyond...pushing past her pain threshold and forcing her to keep going when her mind was screaming at her to stop. She'd never once complained, however, and had trusted him when he'd told her that she COULD do it, and it was all purely psychological.

Now she could barely stand, her legs turning to jelly as her bandaged hands trembled, unable to hold a sword any longer. She still hadn't caught her breath yet and they'd stopped sparring a good ten minutes earlier.

Mind you, Gwaine wasn't much better, (not that he'd ever let her see this, however). But in pushing her, he'd also been pushing himself further than he'd ever dared to go before.

"I...I hope Arthur's...impressed..." she gasped, bending double in a futile attempt to regain her breath once more.

Gwaine glanced up to see the King standing alone in one of the windows, then nodded as he lent back against the wall behind him, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from his eyes.

"I'm sure...he is..." He panted, closing his eyes.

There was a soft thud beside him, and opening his eyes again, he glanced across to see that Dante's knees had finally given way, and she'd collapsed into an awkward sitting position on the cold floor, her legs half way underneath her, but not completely. It looked incredibly uncomfortable - half way between kneeling and sitting with her legs curled to one side. But she didn't seem to care.

"You did well," he commended, finally gathering enough strength to pull himself up away from the wall once more. Then he extended a hand to her.

She groaned loudly in protest at having to stand back up, but still took the proffered hand anyway, allowing him to pull her back to her feet. Her legs threatened to buckle again, but he threw one of her arms over his shoulder to support her weight, then started to lead her back to her room. She was limping heavily, favouring her right leg, and he realised that she'd probably pulled a muscle during one particularly spectacular lunge she'd inadvertently made.

He'd gone for a headshot, and whilst she'd brought both swords up to block the attack, she hadn't noticed his other sword sweeping for her legs until the last possible moment. Throwing her left leg in the air, she'd been meaning to let his blade travel under her foot so that she could bring it back down and kick the blade from his hand. That had been her intention.

In reality, she'd unbalanced herself by lifting said foot and as his blade had swept beneath her heel, she'd thrown her leg out behind her to try and regain some sort of balance. Virtually doing the splits as she'd finally pushed the other blade away with all the strength she had left in her arms, she'd tried to drag her leg back underneath her, but it hadn't co-operated, and she'd been forced to swipe at his stomach to get him to back off, just so that she could grab a handful of material from her trouser leg, and literally pull her leg back towards her instead.

She hadn't complained about any pain at the time, but then adrenaline must have kept her going. Now, however, was a different matter, and she let out a gasp, each time her wounded leg touched the floor.

As he helped her to limp back inside the castle, he glanced back to see the chainmail and swords lying exactly where they'd dropped them. He'd send a servant to go and collect them after he'd delivered Dante safely back to her chambers, he decided. All that mattered at the moment was getting her back to her room.

When confronted with the first flight of stairs, however, she groaned loudly again, and he sighed, bending down to place one arm under her legs. Lifting her into his arms, he adjusted her weight until she was in a more comfortable position, then continued on, up the next few flights of stairs. For a while she chattered about the various tips and techniques that he'd given her, but soon she'd fallen oddly quiet.

It wasn't until he reached her quarters, however, that he realised why. He'd been so focussed on placing one foot in front of the other and not dropping her that he hadn't actually paid any attention to HER. Only now, as he stood outside her chambers, did he realise that she'd actually slipped into a peaceful sleep, cradled safely in his arms, her head tucked into the gap beneath his neck, and one hand lightly gripping the collar of his shirt.

He smiled at how peaceful she now looked, then frowned. Both his hands were full, keeping a safe hold on her. So how was he supposed to open the door?

"Huh...didn't exactly think that one through," he muttered to her sleeping form, even though he knew that she wouldn't answer. He very carefully shifted and tried balancing on one leg as he raised his foot, trying to operate the handle with the toe of his boot. But this only resulted in him wobbling and almost dropping Dante.

She stirred in his arms, and he tried to make shushing noises to send her back off, but she glanced up at him sleepily, eyes half closed.

"What's wrong?" she murmured.

"Can't get the door open," he told her sheepishly.

"Oh."

Letting go of his collar, she reached down and after fumbling about for a moment, managed to open the door for him, before nestling back into his embrace again.

He slipped inside the room carefully, took her into her bedchambers (thankfully THAT door had been left open) then laid her on the bed. She curled up and snuggled down into the warm fluffy pillows as he gently eased off each boot, tossing them into the corner. Then he pulled the covers out from under her and draped them back over the top.

"Night," he whispered, kissing her forehead. Then he blew out the candle by her bedside and left her to her dreams.


	11. Hunith's Arrival

**Author Note: Hey again everyone...I have had some major brainwaves over the weekend, most of them concerning this very story. I've been reading up on the legend of King Arthur, and it's many variations, and whilst the tv show Merlin has dramatically altered some aspects of the legend, I believe I have found a way to at least reference parts or work them into the story elsewhere...some of the famous stuff and some of the not so well known stuff, too. So keep an eye out, see if you can spot the particular nods to the legend over the next coming chapters :)...**

**Anyways, back to the story at hand, and whilst everything seems pretty normal (or as normal as life in Camelot can be with a raving mad witch hellbent on claiming the throne from her brother, and a warlock who conspires with a dragon and hides his secret from everyone even as he continues to serve the man who may well remove his head personally if he ever found out) can the peace truly last?**

...

For the next four months this continued - each spare moment Dante and Gwaine found together, he would teach her not only to defend herself with her dual blades, but how to attack with them as well. He also taught her how to stay on a horse with much more success that she previously would have had (though she still fell off occasionally when she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing), and in return, she would accompany him to the various balls, feasts, festivals and other various social gatherings that were continually held at Camelot.

She was not dating him, of course (and made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion) and was merely accompanying him as repayment for his teachings. In the end, he gave up asking if she would ever love him or return his affections in any way, because she always avoided the question some way or another, or would suddenly throw a major strop and refuse to talk to him for the rest of the day. So, for the sake of peace, he'd learnt to just accept her as a friend and nothing more.

Just like the castle had come to accept that the Lady Dante was actually quite competitive, especially when she and Gwaine got carried away.

Today was no different, and the pair of them were causing quite a spectacle down in the training grounds.

...

The wooden training sword slid through the air, catching a few stray strands of her hair that had been dangling in front of her face, and she leapt back like a cat finding a snake, snapping a kick at his knee. It didn't connect, but it did force him back half a step. She flung herself away, falling and rolling on the dry, almost dead grass, kicking up a cloud of dust as she came back up again with the wooden sword he'd knocked out of her hands.

Now both of them had a pair of short wooden swords once more – substitutes for the real short swords that they sometimes chose as their weapons of choice in combat - or at least Dante did. Gwaine still preferred the more traditional long sword, but he'd always humour her during their training sessions by wielding the same weapons as her, so she could not accuse him of cheating, or having some kind of unfair advantage.

Whirling, slashing at empty air as she tried to get more speed behind the attack, she silently cursed to herself as he twisted aside. But then she realised that it was ok, after all. She had enough room to breathe now, stepping back cautiously. Every time she shifted weight, it was to sure footing.

Gwaine glared as he dropped into first guard, sticks held firmly but not tightly, one in front, one down and to the side in a ready stance. There was a thin trickle of blood where she'd caught him in the face, just above his left eye, beads of crimson threading down his nose.

"Hurts huh?" she said to Gwaine, her eyes never leaving him as she tried to judge his next move. He didn't like having his backside handed to him on a plate, and she could see the frustration and anger in his eyes – anger at himself for allowing a girl to beat him.

Mind you it had been a lucky shot. Although, even so, she was getting luckier all the time, these days. Years of fighting without the proper training had given her a reckless, almost careless style, and more often than not, she'd only truly hit her mark through luck rather than skill. But since her time here in Camelot, studying the other knights and training with Gwaine, she'd become wiser to the much more refined art of combat.

She'd learnt not just to swing and hope, but to aim and to time her strikes with her opponent's movements.

Gwaine didn't rise to her taunt, but darted forwards instead, and their wooden swords collided with a loud crack. But a slight dip in the grass cut off any further advance he could have made by twisting his foot to one side. He yelped slightly, losing balance and Dante pressed her own advantage, driving him back across their makeshift training area. For the first time she got the impression as he tried to fight back against her momentum that he wasn't holding back and being careful.

She pressed even harder, then flicked one wrist to the side. With a loud crack, one of Gwaine's swords went flying. He snatched his hand back, as if burned and she read his intent in the way his weight shifted. So she flung herself forward, sticks blurring as she tried not to give him a chance to make a move. He wove his one remaining sword in a defensive arc, warding off her attacks and taking a step in the opposite direction. If she could keep him away from the stick he'd dropped, she might stand even more of a chance.

Their footsteps became drumbeats on the parched earth and dead grass, and Gwaine had to work furiously, spinning his sword in a figure of eight movement to knock away each of her attacks.

The stone wall that separated the grassy lawn from the gravel track up to the Palace was coming up soon, and there would be no room for him to retreat unless he did something fancy. If he did, she was going to have to react within a split second.

So she continued to press him further back, determined not to allow him any kind of advantage. They weren't just sparring now – it had ended up like it usually did – with one of them honestly trying to hurt the other, almost as if proving a point that they were the better combatant.

The wall was upon them now, six foot of solid, heavy stone casting a shadow over them as Gwaine, sensing he was about to lose his momentum, threw himself to the side, rolling away – his reflexes much too swift.

Dante couldn't keep up with the movement and stumbled forwards, falling against the wall. In one fluid motion, Gwaine was back on his feet again, wooden sword pressed across the back of her neck. If this was a real sword he was now wielding, one forwards motion would remove her head from her body, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Breathing heavily, leaning against the cold stone wall in front of her, Dante graciously accepted the defeat, dropping her own wooden swords and yielding the victory to him. Ordinarily, if this was any other opponent, he'd have let them walk away then, or even congratulated them on a well fought fight. But not Dante. Oh no, this opportunity was far too good to miss.

Dropping his own wooden sword, just as she finally turned to face him, he lunged at her, tickling her mercilessly.

"Gwaine!" She shrieked, writhing and squirming, trying to get away. "GWAINE!"

He did not relent, however.

If anything, her protests only caused him to increase his attack, until she was reduced to a giggling heap on the floor.

"Say it!" He demanded as she tried to curl herself into a protective - and incredibly giggly ball.

"Say what?" She gasped as he finally reduced the assault to allow her to speak.

"Say that you're sorry for busting my eye open, and that you yield to me because I'm obviously the better swordsman than you."

"Of course you are, you've had years of practice!" She exclaimed, fighting to get her breath after the attack. "But yes, I yield."

"And?"

"And...?"

"And you're sorry that you...?

"That I...what?" She grinned, knowing she was letting herself in for another round of torture. But she was a stubborn creature by nature, and never gave in easily - no matter how much torture she was forced to endure.

And sure enough, the tickling got worse, as he went for the spot at the back of her neck.

"No!" She shrieked, wriggling and squirming desperately to try and escape. "You git!"

...

Across the training grounds, Leon and Elyan were watching the entire scene, but only one of them was finding it amusing.

"Why don't they just kiss and be done with it?" Leon sulked, turning away as Dante's peals of laughter rang through the air, along with a few curses damning Gwaine's existence.

"Jealous, are we?" Elyan asked, one eyebrow raising.

"Not at all," Leon replied curtly. "I'm merely stating that not everyone wants to see those two flirting all the time. It's quite off-putting. Especially as they are not even romantically involved. She is free to choose any man she desires, and yet she spends her entire time flirting with Gwaine."

"Then doesn't that tell you something?" Elyan asked, even more amused by Leon's jealousy than he was of Gwaine's tickle-attack on Dante.

"Like what?" Leon huffed.

"Well, like perhaps she HAS chosen her man, and it happens to be Gwaine. She's just playing hard to get."

"To what point and purpose?"

"The thrill is in the chase, my friend," Elyan grinned, patting Leon on the shoulder. "Never the capture."

The only response he was dignified with then was a loud huff, before Leon stormed away, muttering something about needing to polish his armour.

"What's up with him?" Percival asked, arriving just in time to see Leon skulking away, whilst across the field, Gwaine was finally helping a scarlet-faced Dante back to her feet.

"Dante-envy," Elyan shrugged.

"Ah," Percival nodded. And from the tone of voice as he said that one single word, Elyan somehow got the feeling that he knew EXACTLY what Leon was feeling. Glancing up at the huge giant of a knight, he smirked. So that was three of the five round table knights that Dante had so far managed to enchant. Who would be the next to fall under her spell?

...

When she awoke the next morning, Dante could barely move, and at first assumed that something was terribly wrong.

She was paralysed!

Someone had enchanted her, and she could not move...but the only person she knew with magic was Morgana. Why would Morgana do such a thing?

But then, as she began to wake up and come to her senses a little more, she realised that in fact she wasn't paralysed at all - the fact she could feel her toes wriggling and could clench and unclench each hand into a painful fist was also a huge giveaway.

And then the aching made its presence well and truly known to her, and she half groaned, half laughed, remembering what had happened.

"Milady?" Kahlee, the new maid assigned to Dante from now on, asked in concern as she peered into the bedchambers, having heard the sounds of movement from her mistress as she'd woken.

"I'm alright," Dante replied, squinting her eyes closed and urging her aching muscles to behave and do as she willed.

"Are you sure, Milady?"

"No...but it'll wear off. Tell me Kahlee, have you ever engaged in a sword fight with Sir Gwaine?" Dante asked as she sat herself upright, very slowly in the bed, learning from experience not to rush these things.

"I can't say that I have, Milady."

"Hmm, well, word of advice, should you ever consider it...don't. He cheats."

"I'll bear that in mind, Milady," Kahlee chuckled as Dante swung herself round to sit on the edge of her bed. Then she suddenly remembered what she was wearing, and how this probably wasn't such a good idea all of a sudden. Gwaine's borrowed shirt and breaches weren't exactly very ladylike attire, but when training with the knights, this was all she had to wear (because as she continually insisted, she couldn't be expected to fight in a dress, and Morgana's armour had mysteriously vanished. It was nowhere to be seen, though Dante had her sneaking suspicions that Morgana may have had something to do with that).

Kahlee eyed her Mistress' odd choice of clothing for a moment, but wisely chose not to comment, which Dante was grateful for.

"What would you like to wear today, Milady?"

"I dunno. You pick," Dante shrugged, then winced and yelped causing Kahlee to spin on the spot, alarmed. When she saw Dante massaging her shoulder, however, she relaxed and turned back to rummage through the large wardrobe again.

Pulling out a shimmering pearlescent cream gown, she held it up for Dante to see. "This one, Milady?"

Dante paused, studied the dress for a moment, then nodded her consent, standing awkwardly, one hand holding the back of her head gingerly as she moved to stand behind the wooden screen. Kahlee waited patiently as Gwaine's shirt and breeches sailed over the partition, then handed the dress over to replace them.

When she emerged again, now dressed in the shimmering gown, her hair loose and flowing freely over her shoulders as she ran a brush through it, Kahlee couldn't help but smile. How Dante could go from looking beaten, tired and worn one moment, to radiant and shining the next with just a simple change of clothes and a quick wash with the bowl and cloth that Kahlee had provided was beyond even the maid's comprehension.

"So, anything I should know for today?" she asked as Kahlee gathered the shirt and breeches so that they could be washed.

"There is a woman requesting an audience with the King. I believe she's his manservant's mother - says she has some news about King Lot."

This caught Dante's full and undivided attention then. "When is the meeting taking place?"

"Everyone is down in the throne room now, Milady. I believe they are just waiting on the King. And Her Majesty said she'd appreciate your presence, as well."

"Thank you Kahlee," Dante said quickly as she headed for the door. "I'd better not keep them waiting, then."

"Have a nice day, Milady," Kahlee bowed her head respectfully, then carried on with her duties as Dante made her way down to throne room, where a crowd of nobles, knights and other officials had gathered, waiting for the King.

...

Hunith was eager to see her son again, but she couldn't help wishing that for once, it was under better circumstances. Since coming to Camelot she'd only ever been able to see him when times were dire or situations had become desperate. Today was, unfortunately, no exception.

He wasn't in the room when she first entered - in fact she'd been alone (save for the guards who had escorted her in) for a good ten minutes or so before finally news began to spread of her arrival and the room began to fill with people - some she recognized from past visits, and some she didn't know at all.

But then Gaius had entered, offering her a bright smile and a warm hug, and suddenly she hadn't felt so alone.

Merlin wasn't far behind, and had given his mother an even bigger hug, telling her that no matter what happened today, everything would be alright. She'd stood with him and Gaius for a moment, debating whether or not to tell them her situation - after all, did she really want to repeat herself? - But then the timely arrival of the Queen had spared her from having to make this decision, for which she was grateful. As Guinevere had taken her seat and smiled warmly at Hunith, the old woman was amazed that this was even the same young lady she'd last seen in Ealdor, over a year previously. Back then, Gwen had been desperate, helpless and alone, outcast from Camelot and with nowhere else to go.

A year later, she was now Queen of Camelot, married to a man who loved her dearly, adored by the people she now ruled and surrounded by her friends and family. Hunith smiled back, proud of Gwen and how she'd changed her stars. Just like Merlin, she'd made a life for herself here in Camelot, and she was benefitting greatly from it.

As was the Lady Dante, she noticed, as the young woman swept into the room from one of the back doors behind the throne a few minutes later. With a quick muttered apology to Gwen, she moved down to join the other assembled nobles, before finally allowing herself to look at the assembled crowd. Hunith wasn't the first face she looked for, though this didn't surprise the old woman in the slightest, considering a lot had happened since their last meeting. Dante was now looking ravishing in a pearlescent gown that was, in all honesty, fit for a Princess. And she looked like a Princess too.

Like Gwen, she was now a complete contrast to the first time she'd met Hunith. Just a month ago, she'd stumbled into the village of Ealdor, starved, exhausted and wild eyed with delirium. She'd raved about Lot and how she'd been his slave, and how he'd chased her after he escape. Hunith had taken pity on the poor girl, not knowing at the time that she'd been descended from a long line of nobility. It wasn't until later, when news reached her of Arthur's actions defending her at his birthday feast that Hunith had found out that she was more than just an escaped slave. To look at her as she'd stumbled into Ealdor, you'd never have known it.

Still, time at Camelot had done wonders for her. Whilst she still bore the fading cuts that had marked her soft features, she'd lost the wild eyed, desperate look. She'd also gained a healthy amount of weight so that now she was not a pale shadow of flesh and bones any longer, but rather a slim, elegant young woman with glowing cheeks and a spark that Hunith imagined would be hard to extinguish. Her training with Gwaine had also given her a healthy amount of muscle, that added to her lean and elegant figure.

"Beautiful, isn't she," Merlin whispered into his mother's ear when he saw her staring at the newest arrival, who was now in conversation with one of the Lords about something or other. From the looks of things, he'd just offered her an invitation, which she was politely declining.

"Indeed she is," Hunith nodded. "Has she...spoken to you at all?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

"Well, when she came to Ealdor, I told her to seek you out, in particular, if she ever came to Camelot. I thought it was about time you found yourself a nice young lady to settle down with..."

"Mother!" Merlin groaned as Gaius made a very poor attempt of disguising his chuckle as a cough, which attracted Dante's attention. Spotting Hunith standing with Merlin, she smiled, excused herself from the Lord (who's cheeks had coloured with embarrassment at her rejection) and slipped across the room to join them.

"She's way out of my league," Merlin muttered before she reached them. Then he nodded his respect to her, as did Hunith and Gaius.

"Lady Dante, it is good to see you looking so well," Hunith offered, by way of an introduction, and although it took Dante a moment to recognize the face, she finally beamed in delight.

"Hunith, welcome! You're looking wonderful yourself."

"You're too kind, Milady."

"Oh please, just Dante will do," Dante grinned, waving an imperious hand as if waving away her title.

"I was just saying to my son how it's about time he found a nice young lady to settle down with," Hunith started conversationally as they waited for Arthur to finally arrive.

"Mother!" Merlin started again, and Dante laughed.

"Oh, look at him blush. Bless him." She patted Merlin's cheek lightly.

"Are YOU with anyone, currently, Lady Dante?" Hunith pressed.

"Alas, it is complex," Dante sighed, glancing across to where Gwaine was standing with the other knights. "But whilst I cannot offer Merlin the pleasure of MY company, I'm sure there are hundreds of women who would gladly fill that role. After all...he is an excellent kisser."

Leaving that sentence to linger, she made her excuses and slipped back to the flock of noble women who she was apparently supposed to be standing with. Not that she wanted to, of course. Staying with Merlin and his mother seemed the much more appealing option, but a fanfare had just started from somewhere to herald the King's arrival, so she supposed she'd better get back to her rightful place.

"Did she say what I think she just said?" Hunith whispered to Merlin, who couldn't help but grin then, despite the humiliation she'd forced him to endure just minutes before. Even Gaius looked intrigued by this comment.

"I didn't tell you?" he asked the old man smugly, as Arthur made his entrance.

"Tell me what, exactly?" Gaius hissed as the three of them bowed to the King.

"I kissed Dante...Well, to be exact, she kissed me. But it's the same difference, when you think about it."

Gaius' exclaimation of disbelief was cut off by a sharp dig in the ribs from his apprentice, seconds before the room fell silent and Arthur took his seat beside Gwen. Then the King motioned for Hunith to step forwards.

"Good luck," Merlin hissed to her. He had no idea why she was here, but he somehow got the feeling she'd need it.

...

To say that Dante was in a foul mood after Hunith's explanation would be the understatement of the century, as she stormed away from the room, seething with an unexplained anger, just an hour later.

She'd held her tongue through the whole meeting, though it had been clear to Merlin who'd been constantly looking from her to his mother and back again, that a storm was brewing in her eyes. Her clenched fists and tense body language were just the very first indicators of her rising temper, and Merlin wondered just what it was, exactly, that had riled her so much.

Looking from Gaius to his mother, he wondered if he should perhaps run after the young woman. But then, seeing Gwaine peel off from the group of knights and start after her, he sighed, deciding against it. If Dante truly was in a storm over what had been said in the meeting, then let Gwaine take the wrath.

"Merlin, perhaps you should show your mother where she can find some food," Gaius said quietly. "She must be hungry, after the journey."

"It's alright," Hunith replied, shaking her head. "If you want to go after the Lady, It's fine."

"No," Merlin said eventually, after serious consideration. "I'll let Gwaine take the wrath. You haven't seen one of her tempers. They're becoming quite legendary." He smiled wryly, extending an arm to his mother, who took it graciously. After all, she wasn't as young as she used to be.

"What could have made her turn, so suddenly?" Gaius wondered, as the three of them left the hall together, heading back towards Gaius' chambers.

None of them knew the answer, but down in the courtyard below, Gwaine was just about to find out.

...

"Dante?" He called, hurrying over the stone courtyard just as she was about to mount Gringolet (who one of the stable boys had hastily readied for her). Seeing as she hated riding, Arthur had been against the idea of giving her a horse of her own, so on the very rare occasions when she did go riding, she'd borrow Gwaine or Percival's horses instead (as long as the knights did not need them at the time).

Today it was Gringolet's turn, and sensing her foul mood, he decided that the wisest thing would be to stand still and behave for a change.

Somewhere at the back of Gwaine's mind, he noted the irony, and made a mental note to get cross with his stubborn, fiery mount more often, if this was the reaction he was granted with, each time.

"Dante! Hey, wait up! Where are you going?"

"For a ride," she snapped, swinging gracefully into the saddle and gathering the reigns as the stable boy quickly checked all the necessary straps and made all the adjustments for her. "I need to clear my head."

"Clear your head? What is wrong with you?" He challenged, standing squarely in front of his own horse, effectively blocking the way. "What's with all the anger?"

"That bastard's gone too far this time!"

"By bastard, I'm assuming you mean Lot?" Gwaine ventured. He was rewarded with a feral snarl in answer, and stepped back, shocked. Dante took this opportunity to drive her heels into Gringolet's sides, turning him sharply and galloping out of the courtyard, before anyone could stop her.

Whilst she still hated riding, she had at least improved enough that this simple action no longer caused her to grip the saddle or a hand full of mane in fear, and she was more competent at staying in the saddle now too.

Gwaine watched her go, wondering if he should pursue, just to ensure that she wouldn't do anything foolish. But then, he knew that the best thing to do when Dante was in one of these moods was to stay out of her way and give her space. If he followed her, he'd only make the situation ten times worse.

So, very reluctantly, he forced himself to turn away from the direction she'd disappeared in, and walked calmly back into the Citadel. These moods of hers could last for hours at a time so he'd give her till nightfall. Then if she wasn't back by then, he'd go looking for her, whether she liked it, or not.


	12. The Witch's Threat

**Author Note: Hey everyone. I've now got the next few chapters written in rough on my computer, so hopefully I'll be able to update with a few more chapters before next week. And don't worry, things are quite slow in Camelot at the moment, but they're about to pick up - and something is soon to happen to Dante that will throw everything into chaos, whilst bringing her and Gwaine closer, hehe.**

**So now that I've given you a little spoiler of what's to come, enjoy this next chapter. Dante is about to learn why you don't get on Morgana's bad side.**

...

By the time Dante had reached Morgana's hovel, hidden deep within the forests to the south of Camelot's Citadel, she had forcefully calmed herself and her raging temper once more.

After all, she of all people should know how terribly unwise it would be to storm into the witch's hut, ranting, raving and throwing wild accusations around.

_Reason is the first victim of strong emotion_, her father had often told her, and Dante would need all her wits, reasoning and logic if she were to avoid incurring the wrath of Morgana now. So keeping her emotions in check was paramount.

Sliding from Gringolet's saddle, she tethered him to a tree near some lush grass so that he would be content - for the time being at least. The last thing she needed was for the spirited horse to get bored, work his way free, then bugger off back to the Citadel, where he would spark a frenzy by returning rider-less, which in turn would then cause a search party to be sent out, looking for her.

Once she was sure that his needs had been satisfied, she took a deep breath, walked over to the wooden door of the hut and rapped sharply with her bare knuckles, flinching as the rough, splintered wood scratched her skin.

When she received no immediate answer, she assumed that Morgana must be out somewhere. However, trying the handle, she found that it was actually unlocked. Stepping carefully and cautiously into the darkness beyond, she squinted, pausing for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Then she began to scan the hovel.

"On your knees," a soft, dangerous voice hissed in her ear suddenly, as the cold steel of a blade slid under her chin, pressing lightly against her throat.

Instinctively holding her hands up to show that they were empty, Dante did as instructed, sinking very slowly to her knees, glad that the blade was moving with her - otherwise this could have proved most awkward indeed. It remained pressed firmly against her exposed neck, but as yet, did not draw any blood. However, it would just take a single twitch from an unsteady hand to end her life forever, and she knew it. So she remained perfectly still, barely even daring to breath in case the movement should jog the blade.

"You are angry," Morgana noticed with both surprise and suspicion as she moved round to stand in front of her acolyte, keeping the blade steadily in position. "Angry with me, perhaps? Or with someone else?"

_Both, _Dante wanted to say. But she didn't dare admit something like that to Morgana as her eyes remained locked firmly with the witch's, even though every instinct was screaming at her to keep her eyes on the blade instead.

"Someone else, Mistress."

It took Morgana the best part of the next ten second to study Dante and decide that she was of no immediate danger to her. She had not come specifically to harm her, at least. Slowly, she removed the blade, placing it on the nearby table - well in reach if Dante needed 'reminding' to keep her temper in check.

"Tell me," she said, noting the look of relief on the young woman's face when the threat of the dagger was lifted.

"King Lot has attacked an innocent village and taken its entire population into slavery," Dante explained, her fists curling again as she was reminded of why she'd been angry in the first place.

"Yes," Morgana nodded. Dante blinked in surprise.

"You knew?"

"It was my idea," Morgana shrugged.

In an instant, Dante was back on her feet, regardless of the fact she had not been given permission to rise. "Your idea? Why?"

"Why not?" Morgana challenged.

"They are innocent people!"

"No-one is innocent, Dante. You should know this by now. Besides, what has any of this to do with you, anyway?"

"There was a woman in Ealdor who took me in and showed me great kindness when I needed it - as you once did. SHE was the one to come to Camelot, seeking help. SHE was the one who raised the alarm and made us aware of what Lot is up to. SHE was the one who made me aware of YOUR plan, Morgana!"

It was clear that through this little speech, Dante had been trying to control her anger. Trying...but sadly failing.

"You are angry that I did not tell you my plan?" Morgana laughed, an ironic, bitter laugh that held no humour.

"Yes! I'm your bloody acolyte! How can I trust you, if you don't tell me what the hell is going on?"

Morgana picked up the dagger then, and Dante flinched.

"Need I remind you," the witch spoke calmly as the dagger rose slowly and elegantly from her palm, floating through the air towards Dante. "I do not answer to you. I do not need to tell you anything, if I do not desire. I do not require your trust, because there are plenty of fools out there who would kill to have your job right now. I can take your life and replace it in an instant, and do not believe that I wouldn't."

The knife floated through the air towards Dante, and although she looked visibly terrified by the glinting blade, all credit to the girl, she stood her ground regardless.

"And need I remind you, Mistress," she started in reply, slowly, choosing her words VERY carefully. "I am on your side. I am not against you. All I ask is that you do not keep me in the dark about such things. The more I know...the more I can aid you, from the inside. That was why you had me enter the ranks of Camelot in the first place, was it not?"

Morgana thought about this for what felt like an eternity, even as the enchanted knife hovered at her acolyte's throat. Dante knew that this situation was about to go one of two ways.

Either she was a dead woman and Morgana would simply replace her with the next mindless fool she happened across, or -

The clatter of metal as the blade struck the floor made her flinch again. It took her a second to register that she was once again out of immediate danger. She looked down at the blade at her feet in surprise.

"Granted," Morgana nodded, conceding to this particular argument. "I suppose you have served me better than most. You've earned the right to know what's going on. Sit."

Tentatively, Dante did as she was told, sitting at the table opposite Morgana, who began to explain her plan.

"It's all a trap for Arthur. The woman you spoke of is Merlin's mother. She believes she had a lucky escape from the village, unseen. In truth, we let her go. She has run to Merlin and Arthur in the past when in need of help. It was only a matter of time before she'd do it again."

"You wanted her to go to Arthur for help," Dante realised, catching on.

"Yes. We needed some way to catch Arthur's attention, and what better way than to get to him via his manservant's mother. Merlin would do anything for her, and I believe there is little that Arthur would not do for Merlin."

"So why kidnap a whole village. Hasn't Lot got enough slaves?" Dante asked, not really understanding.

"We cannot afford to have anyone get in our way when our plan is put into motion," Morgana replied, as if the answer were simple. "They have been taken to the Castle of Fyrien, along with the livestock. Ealdor is completely deserted. The perfect place to spring an ambush."

"And when Arthur shows up, you surprise him and kill him?"

"No."

"No? But I thought - "

"Trust me, Dante. I've lost count of how many times I've tried to kill Arthur now. He simply refuses to die. So, I have decided that rather than keep wasting my time, energy and resources on something that I know to be futile, I'll focus them on another approach instead. Don't get me wrong, there will be death. But not Arthur's. Just those who accompany him."

"And what of Arthur?" Dante asked, trying to process all this information, even as a voice at the back of her head screamed out _I have to find some way to get Arthur to come alone. Nobody else deserves to die because of him._

"I give him a choice," Morgana explained. "Either he and Gwen step down from Camelot's Throne and relinquish all claims for themselves and their future family, or..."

"Or?"

"Or I kill Gwen."

"You can't!" Dante stood so suddenly that her chair rocked backwards, threatening to tip right over.

"SIT DOWN!" Morgana commanded, slamming a fist on the table. Dante glared defiantly and for a moment Morgana believed that she may actually disobey her again, earning herself a fitting punishment in return. Just as she was debating what the young woman would look like with only nine fingers, however, Dante appeared to see sense and sank back down into the chair once more.

"You are far too highly strung, Lady Dante," Morgana scolded. "Curb your anger and let me finish."

"Sorry, Milady." Dante muttered.

"Now, as I was saying...I will 'threaten' to kill his beloved Queen, but that is all it will be. A threat. Arthur will never let anything happen to her. He _will _give me what I want, eventually."

Dante nodded slowly, clearly biting her tongue.

_Well, someone has certainly found their voice since joining Camelot's nobility_, Morgana thought, wryly. A year ago, Dante would never have DARED to answer back to Morgana, yet here she was now, not only arguing, but making demands of her own. She was fast rising above her station, and the sooner Morgana reminded her of this fact, the better.

"You have something to say?" She asked, wondering if she really should have let the matter drop there and then. After all, this was only encouraging Dante's freedom of speech, which in turn was simply asking for more trouble.

"I was just wondering, Milady, what my role in all of this would be."

"Your role?" Morgana scoffed. "Your role is to do as I say and..." She paused as an idea struck her, encouraged by Dante's anger and her insistence to get involved. "And you will ensure that Arthur allows you to accompany him to Ealdor."

"My Lady?" Dante frowned, not understanding.

"We need a back-up in case things do not go according to plan," Morgana explained thoughtfully. "You are perfect for this job! You can claim to have intimate knowledge of Lot's strategies and motives. Spin whatever lies you like, it won't matter in the end. Just as long as Arthur gets to Ealdor. And if, by some small miracle, he survives the village ambush and evades capture, you can tell him of the castle, where Lot is 'most likely' to keep hostages. Arthur will no doubt mount a rescue mission, and we can capture him then."

"And if that fails, Mistress?"

"Then you are heralded as a hero for saving hundreds of lives. That will certainly earn you Arthur's trust and respect."

Dante was just about to agree with this plan, when another thought struck her. "You said that all those who accompanied Arthur would die!"

"All those who accompany him _into the village_," Morgana corrected. "Ensure you do not enter the village. Make up some excuse about staying with the horses. You are not a warrior or a skilled fighter, after all. Arthur cannot expect you to walk into a battlefield."

"But everyone else who goes with him will be killed? Even his knights? And Merlin?"

"Especially Merlin. If I have anything to say about the matter - which I do - he will be the first to die. He has been a thorn in my side for far too long now."

To Dante this was the most brutal, horrific plan she had ever heard - this wasn't just treason she was being encouraged to participate in, but murder as well. Murder of people she had come to regard as friends. She was now wishing that she had never demanded to know the truth in the first place. Now, she had to live with the knowledge that tomorrow, when Arthur and his men set out for Ealdor, they were riding to their deaths, and she was supposed to ENCOURAGE it?

"My plan does not appeal to you?" Morgana challenged, noting Dante's obvious disgust.

"As far as plans go, Milady, it is as sound as it could be," she replied eventually, realising that carefully chosen words would once again be the difference between life or death for her. "As for the principle of the plan, I disagree wholeheartedly. Using innocent people in such a way is barbaric. No, more than that...it's low, Morgana. Even for you. And to kill Merlin, and the others so ruthlessly...so senselessly even...I want no part in it."

"You think it is that easy to back out now?" Morgana hissed, her eyes narrowing into the most evil glare that Dante had ever seen. All her bravado left her in that instant, and she found that her fists had once again clenched, but this time, not in anger. This time, they were clenched in fear.

"You will do as I command, Lady Dante," Morgana continued, rising from her seat to lean across the table, clearly trying to intimidate her acolyte.

It worked.

She could feel the whole table trembling as Dante fought to keep from shaking.

"Do you understand me? You will accompany Arthur to Ealdor, and you will ensure that he is captured. You will spin him whatever lies are necessary to get him to agree, and you will not tell ANYONE of what I have told you today. Otherwise I will not hesitate to kill you myself. And don't think that I won't! I have killed people for their failures in the past. You are no different to any of them." She paused for just a moment, to let her words sink in, before she continued.

"And if you so much as breath a word of this to anyone...if you warn Arthur, or his men that they are walking into a trap...if you try to RUN from me or slip out of my grasp, then known this. I _will_ hunt you down. I will make your life a living hell. THEN I will kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

Dante gulped, her face inches from Morgana's, unable to look away from the cold, malevolent glare of the witch. She was quite literally frozen in fear, and it took her several seconds to will her voice to co-operate.

"C-crystal, M -m-Mistress," she stammered at last, consumed by such fear that all the colour had drained from her face, and she looked as pale as a ghost.

"Now," Morgana hissed, her voice so low it was barely audible. "Get out of my sight, before I change my mind and kill you for your insolence."

Dante didn't need telling twice and shot to her feet so fast that this time, her chair really did tip backwards. Staggering and almost falling over it in her hurry, she turned and fled from the hut, whilst Morgana looked on, fighting to hide her satisfied smirk.

She did not mean what she had said, about killing her acolyte, of course. Dante was much too valuable for her to even consider the possibility of disposing of her just yet. But sometimes Dante needed knocking down a peg or two and reminding who was boss. Otherwise she would become unruly, disobedient and uncontrollable. So a little threat here and there would do her no harm.

Not that Dante needed to know that these threats were empty, however.

...

Gringolet was tired, and bored - Dante could tell. He no longer picked his feet up high and tossed his head, or let out impatient snorts and bounce with each step. Now, he just plodded along, head low, feet dragging.

Mind you, Dante wasn't much better. After he'd unceremoniously dumped her in a clump of bracken an hour earlier, she'd given up trying to ride him, and was now walking alongside, holding his reins in one hand. The other hand held her forehead gingerly as a pounding headache hammered inside her skull, though this time it was no external trauma that was causing her grief, but rather the conflict going on in her mind.

She was in a predicament. Well and truly.

As a Quincailan of Essetir, she'd been raised very strictly, with certain morals and standards drummed into her from birth so often that now they were engraved in her mind, and she could not forget them, if she tried.

One of these lessons was that all debts must be repaid. If someone held you in a debt, then you owed it to them to repay that debt as soon as you were able.

Dante owed Morgana a life debt, after the witch had saved her during their first meeting. Dante had pledged herself to Morgana's services in return, and had vowed that she would obey Morgana and carry out her every command until the witch deemed the debt repaid. If she refused Morgana now, then she was breaking her oath, which went against everything she had ever been taught. Not only would she be betraying Morgana, but she'd also be betraying her entire family, and her honour in the process.

But now she was being ordered to commit treason and murder. Another of her childhood lessons was that these were the two greatest crimes a person could ever commit. She had promised long ago that she would never even contemplate either of these crimes, let alone actually go out and perform them.

No matter what she did now, she would be betraying one of her oaths, and would bring dishonour to herself and her family through her actions. The fact that her life was on the line didn't even factor into the equation, but was an unfortunate result none-the-less. If she did Morgana's bidding, she might die in Ealdor tomorrow with the rest of them. If she warned Arthur, she would die by Morgana's own hands.

"What am I going to do, Gringolet?" She groaned in frustration.

Hearing his name, the stallion's ears perked and he raised his head slightly to look at her. Then he nickered softly and blew out a great puff through his nostrils.

"Yeah. You can say that again," she smiled ruefully, ruffling his coarse mane. He responded by nudging her with his nose, gently at first, then more forcefully until she eventually took a few steps sideways. It wasn't until she glared at him to reprimand him, however, that she saw the hidden dip that she'd almost stepped into, and smiled.

"Well at least someone's looking out for me, I suppose." She patted his muscular neck. "Though that still doesn't solve my problem."

"And what problem would that be?" A familiar figure in a scarlet cloak asked, stepping out from behind one of the trees up ahead.

"Gwaine?" Dante cried, startled. Even Gringolet was surprised by his sudden appearance and threw his head up in alarm. Dante quickly soothed him, rubbing his velvet muzzle until he'd calmed once more. Then she glared back at the knight. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you!" He retorted, manoeuvring Elyan's borrowed horse to walk beside her and Gringolet. "Do you know how long you've been gone from Camelot?"

Glancing up through the thick canopy overhead, Dante could just about make out a black sky and twinkling stars. "Oh. I must have lost track of time." She blushed, embarrassed. And then a though came to her, and she gasped in alarm. "You haven't got the whole of Camelot out looking for me, have you?"

Gwaine laughed then, shaking his head. "No. I haven't. Though the thought did cross my mind. But they're all busy getting ready for Ealdor tomorrow. I thought it best to come alone."

He smiled, unable to stay mad with her for long, and reached out to take Gringolet's reins, giving her one less thing to worry about as he led both horses with apparent ease. Gringolet had perked up again, now that his equine friend was by his side, and the two stallions began a display so typical of two men trying to outdo one another.

"So, what kept you so long?" He asked, ignoring the prancing horses as they showed off to one another.

"I've been thinking," she shrugged.

"Uh-oh. About...?"

"Stuff."

"Oh very informative."

"Stuff that doesn't concern you."

"Now you've just piqued my curiosity."

"tuff that I'm not going to tell you," she grinned. He debated for a moment whether to continue this inane prodding, simply for lack of anything better to do as they walked through the woods together, when something caught his attention. Transferring both sets of reins into one hand, he reached out and fished a twig from her mahogany hair.

"You fell off again, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment again.

"No," she lied.

"Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride."

"You could have broken your neck! Why didn't you let me come with you?"

"I prefer embarrassing myself in private."

Gwaine laughed then, once again unable to stay mad at her for long. "Mission accomplished, My Lady."

"No-one likes sarcasm, Gwaine."

"I do."

She rolled her eyes, turning away to hide her amused smile as finally, the walls of the lower town loomed over them and they passed through the gateway together.

Glancing towards Gwaine, Dante was now more confused than ever about what she was going to do. Because his appearance in the woods had reminded her that it wasn't just Arthur's life that now potentially rested in the palm of her hand - but Gwaine's as well.

And Percival's.

Leon's.

Tristan's.

Elyan's.

Merlin's.

As they finally reached the courtyard of the Citadel once more and Gwaine took the horses off to tend to them himself, Dante made her way slowly back into the castle. Morgana's pendant pressed heavily against her chest, and finally, after hours of torture and agony, contemplating what to do, Dante finally made up her mind.

She was being given two options. 90% chance of death if she accompanied Arthur and commited treason and murder, or 100% chance of death if she betrayed Morgana.

Any chance of survival was better than no chance at all, she decided. It was perhaps a selfish thought, putting her life before everyone else's, but then she was simply choosing the lesser of two evils here. Could anyone blame her for that?

"Lord have mercy," she muttered quietly as she ascended the steps to Arthur's quarters.


	13. Silvertongue

**Author Note: Yes, I know I promised several updates by the end of the week and it never happened but, well I blame the sun in all honesty! It chose to come out and shine all week and dazzle me with its light and warmth, and its so long since we've seen ANY sun at all here that...well, I just had to make the most of it while it lasted, lol. On the plus side though, sitting out in the garden in the sunshine with an ice cold drink gave me plenty of time to write, so here are the next couple of chapters to make up for my lack of posting recently.**

**Also on a side note, I did have time to watch a few more episodes of Merlin, and I've discovered that I've made a HUGE mistake regarding Gwaine. But, more on that next chapter. For now, enjoy Dante doing what she does best - lying through her teeth, lol.**

**...**

Guinevere had gone to bed early - complaining of a headache and excusing herself after dinner - so Arthur was left to finish off the day's business alone. This included digging out the maps of Essetir and studying them over and over, trying to work out the best route to take, and the best plan of attack once they got there.

He'd been there before, of course, but that had just been raiders intent on stealing the villagers supplies, no real strategy -their attacks careless and reckless. Even then, to defeat them had taken the four of them from Camelot...himself, Gwen, Merlin and _her, _plus the entire village of farmers and the illegal magic of one very brave young man, who'd died to defend Arthur.

The group they had faced that day had not been a fully formed army of well trained soldiers with commanding officers and battle plans.

Tomorrow would be a whole different matter, entirely.

And despite all that, he didn't want to take his own army, firstly because it would leave Camelot - and more importantly Gwen - undefended. And secondly because meeting violence with violence was the quickest way to start a war. Ideally he wanted to take a small group, slip in, free the villagers and slip out again, undetected. He could worry about removing the threat later, after seeing the situation for himself.

It was half a day's ride to Ealdor, after all, but would it be more beneficial to ride for longer, scout round Ealdor and attack from the East, rather than the West? If Lot was expecting Camelot to retaliate, he would be fortifying the defences on the western border that joined Camelot. He wouldn't think twice about fortifying the east...or would he?

This was the other problem Arthur now faced. He had no idea how Lot went about things. Was he a straightforward act first, ask questions later kind of man? Or would he be willing to negotiate so that no fighting ever needed to take place?

After meeting the man in person on his birthday, Arthur very much doubted it would be the latter, but he couldn't exactly be sure. He needed someone who knew Lot, personally.

Just then, there came a soft rap at the door, and he glanced up from the maps he'd been studying. "Come in."

"Sorry to intrude, Arthur," Dante smiled apologetically as she peered round the door. "Is now a bad time? Perhaps I should come back later?" It had been decided, a while ago, that in private at least, the formalities could be dropped. Merlin called Arthur by his first name, and he was a servant, so why shouldn't the same privilege be extended to Dante? She was as much a friend to Arthur now as any of his knights, who also used first name terms when alone with him.

"No, no, it's alright," Arthur assured her, shuffling the papers into a neat pile on his desk and standing to greet her as she entered. "What can I do for you, Dante?"

"Well actually, I was hoping I could do something for you," She replied as he motioned for her to take one of the seats by the fire.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Well, I know you're busy planning this whole trip to Ealdor, and all, but I was hoping it would not be too late for me to jump on board? You know, tag along with you when you ride out?"

"I'm sorry, Dante, but it's too dangerous," he told her firmly, but gently, without even considering the possibilities of what she was offering. Clearly Dante had expected this reaction, however, as she smiled and nodded.

"Of course. But I am not asking to join the fight. I'm simply offering my knowledge to help you along the way."

"Your knowledge?" he asked, curious now despite the nagging voice at the back of his mind insisting that it was a bad idea.

"I was Lot's slave for eight years," she reminded him. "I rarely left his side, and as such, I learned his most intimate secrets...his tactics and strategies, his motives, his strengths and his weaknesses. I could tell you exactly how he'll attack the village, and more importantly, how he'll set up the ambush if he knows you're coming."

"You know all that?" Arthur asked suspiciously. "Why would a slave know all that?"

Choosing not to be offended by the way he'd so casually referred to her as being a slave - as if she was one still, she leaned forward conspiratorially, as if afraid the very walls themselves had ears and would overhear her. "I shouldn't really know any of it," she admitted. "But I often listened in on his conversations. I'm good at listening, after all, and nobody ever gave a slave girl a second's thought as I hovered in the background. But Lot found out eventually and swore me to secrecy under pain of death. Why do you think he went to so much trouble to get back a simple slave girl? It wasn't because I was pretty, or useful to him - he could have replaced me with anyone, at any time."

She waited, to see if Arthur would realise what she was trying to get at. And the King didn't disappoint.

"It was because you knew all his secrets," he realised with a grin. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"It never really crossed my mind," she shrugged again. This whole lying thing was coming quite easily to her now, and she found the various stories rolling from her tongue as easily as counting to ten. But then, she'd always been a master of stories since she was a child, able to fabricate and come up with the most intricate and believable stories imaginable. Often she'd get her brothers into trouble by making up stories about them, and her lies would be laced with just enough truth to make them believable. Her father had jokingly said that she had a silver tongue, which at the time had confused the six year old Dante. She'd spent the next week studying her tongue in the mirror, fearing that it would actually turn to silver. Now, however, it was really coming in useful and she could see she had Arthur's complete belief in every word she was saying, no matter how false they were.

"But that is why I come to you now, Arthur. I want to help you. But to do that, I need to see the village for myself. I learned Lot's patterns for dominating and 'conquering' as he often called it. Each village is different, and so were his tactics, depending on the layouts."

"It's still too dangerous," Arthur replied, shaking his head.

"But you'll let Merlin go, even though he's not a knight?"

"Merlin's quite capable of looking after himself...sort of."

"And Gwaine's been teaching me how to fight!" She protested petulantly. "Enough to defend myself, if I get into trouble, at least. I don't want to go there to fight. I want to help you. If that means staying with the horses, or I dunno, climbing a tree or something, just to stay out of sight, then so be it. But please, Arthur. Let me come with you?"

"Ladies don't climb trees, Dante. Besides, why are you so desperate to help when it's really of no concern to you?" Arthur frowned.

"Because Hunith helped me in my hour of need. Now it is my turn to repay the favour. Besides, I don't want anyone to get hurt. The more help I can give you, the easier I'll sleep at night."

"This really isn't a good idea," Arthur grumbled, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. He was ready to refuse her once more, despite the help she was so generously offering, when she also stood, a steely glint in her eye and a brief flash of frustration crossing her calm features.

"Like it or not, Arthur Pendragon, I'm coming with you tomorrow, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"How dare you!" He snapped, his cheeks flushing with anger then. "I am your King! I will not be spoken to like that!"

"And you are also my friend, Arthur," she spoke softly, her frustration vanishing in an instant as she ignored his anger, rising and stepping towards him. Taking his hands in her own, she looked up into his eyes. "I do not want anything to happen to you...My King."

How could he refuse that look she was now giving him?

Wait..._that look_?

That's what Gwaine always complained about. The look she would unleash upon him, that he simply could not refuse. Was she using 'that look' upon Arthur now?

Because if she was...

Damn, it was working!

"Alright," he sighed, shaking his head and finally caving in to her request. "But don't come crying to me when it all ends in tears."

"You won't regret it," she beamed, standing up on tiptoes to plant a very light, delicate kiss on his cheek. "I promise."

"Yes well, make sure you get plenty of rest. We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and you'll need to be at your best," he replied, clearing his throat and trying to hide the blush on his cheeks once more as he tried to put on his best _'I'm the boss'_ look.

"Of course," she nodded obediently.

"And find some armour, or something. Can't have you ruining any of your...ah...gowns..."

Again she nodded. "Consider it done."

"And don't be late, or we'll go without you!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"And...ah..."

She waited, eyebrow raised expectantly, and he floundered, trying to think of one last order to save himself.

"And when we're in public, you can't act like my friend. It's unprofessional."

"My apologies, Sire."

"Yes, well...that's better. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some last minute planning to do. Meet us in the courtyard tomorrow at dawn."

"See you there."

How could she stay so blatantly calm and blasé about it all? As she headed for the door, he marvelled at her casual attitude. Why couldn't everyone be as laid back about things as she was? She'd just volunteered to join him on a dangerous mission, without even giving a second thought to her safety.

Would she still be so confident tomorrow, when the fighting began? Only time would tell, he supposed.

She paused at his door, throwing him an easy smile over her shoulder, before bidding him goodnight, and leaving him to contemplate all that had happened, and what he'd just let himself in for.

"Women!" he grumbled to himself, collapsing back down behind his desk and grabbing the pile of parchment towards him once more.

...

Out in the hallway, Dante leant back against the cool stone wall and breathed out a long sigh of relief, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

Admittedly that had been much easier than she'd expected, but now that she thought back on it, how the hell had she gotten away with talking to Arthur like that? Was she mad? Did she have a death wish?

Well, she'd just volunteered to walk into a trap, knowing that she stood little to no chance of survival, so yes, perhaps she did.

"I must be mad!" She exclaimed to the empty corridor. "I've lost it. I've actually, well and truly lost it!"

And then another thought struck her and she gasped suddenly, as if punched in the stomach by an invisible fist.

"Gwaine! How the hell am I going to explain this to him?" The more she thought about it, the more she realised there was actually no way to keep it from him. He'd find out sooner or later, anyway. And no matter how convincingly she'd lied her way through the conversation with Arthur, no amount of lying and convincing would EVER get Gwaine to agree to such a mad, hair brained idea.

"Oh boy," she groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. "He's gonna kill me!" Then she took a deep breath and stood up straight again, steeling herself against the inevitable onslaught. "Well, here goes nothing..."

...

Gwaine was in the armoury, sharpening his beloved sword when Dante appeared. She had a very confused look on her face as she glanced around at the racks of weapons and shields and the piles of armour.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, just as surprised to see her as she apparently seemed to be about ending up in the armoury in the first place.

"Huh...well, this isn't the archives," she mused, her frown deepening as she glanced back out the door, mentally retracing her footsteps, it would seem. "I swear it was left at the green and yellow shield...Or was it right?"

"You're nowhere near the archives," he told her, putting his sword down and standing. Then he saw the glint in her eye. For all her pretence about being lost and confused, she'd just given herself away, whether she intended to or not. "So, what are you really doing here?"

"Damn, rumbled," she grinned, slinking over, hands clasped lightly behind her back and giving him 'that look' again. "Alright, I was trying to find you."

"Trying to find me? Why?"

"To ask if you'd care to join me for a drink," she admitted sheepishly.

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"I didn't want to seem too needy," she shrugged.

He took her hands in his own, brushing the backs of them with his thumbs and feeling her soft, silky skin beneath. "What's brought this on, anyway? This isn't like you. Has something happened?" Now his suspicion had turned to alarm as he feared that something had indeed happened.

"I have some...news to tell you," she spoke after a moment, tentatively, as if suddenly afraid. Afraid of what, though? Surely not the way he'd react? Hadn't she realised by now that she could tell him anything? She could tell him she'd murdered someone, for all he cared, and he'd still give her no cause to fear his reaction.

"I just thought a drink might soften the blow."

"I'm getting the impression I'm really not going to like the sound of this, am I," he frowned now, as well, his anxiety rising.

"Humour me," she said then with a grin, mimicking his accented voice as she fluttered her eyelashes, trying to ease his nerves. It worked.

"Alright, hang on," he laughed, unable to resist. Fetching his sword, he slid it into his belt, then extended his arm to her. "So, My Lady - your room, or mine?"

"Well, does you room have anything that resembles wine...or something of a similar nature?"

"I have a secret stash of ale?" He suggested. She appeared to consider for several seconds as they walked, before she shrugged and grinned.

"Close enough. Your room it is, then."

"Are you sure this isn't all just a trick to get me alone?" He teased, giving her one of his famous smiles again. This time, she didn't ignore it, as she usually did. She blushed and looked away briefly, before clearing her throat delicately.

"Absolutely not. This is strictly business, I'll have you know."

"Shame."

...

As Gwaine fished about at the back of his large oak armoire for the elusive bottle of ale, Dante took a moment to look about his room. It was nowhere near as ornate or lavishly decorated as hers - plain flagstone floor, wooden shutter over the window, simple oak furniture. In fact, the only decoration in the entire room appeared over the mantle - the Pendragon crest, adorned by two engraved short swords meant for ceremonial occasions, rather than actual fighting.

The furniture was sparse, too. Bed, bedside table, dining table, four chairs, the armoire, a looking glass in the corner and a wooden screen. If ever there was an opposite to her chambers, this was most probably it. And yet Gwaine was content. He didn't mind the simplicity of his room, because after all, he barely spent any time in it other than when he was asleep, anyway.

"So, this news you had to tell me," he started, as he re-emerged from the wardrobe brandishing a dusty bottle in triumph.

"Drink first, then I'll talk," she insisted.

"Must be bad," he grinned, as they sat together at the table - on opposing sides. He glanced all about, then frowned. "I'm sorry, I have no cups."

"That's alright," she replied, taking the bottle from him, dusting off the cobwebs, then raising it to her lips and taking a large gulp. Ale really wasn't her thing, but she needed something to take the edge off what she was just about to do, and this particular brand went down quite easily, she was surprised to find.

Gwaine laughed at her unladylike manner, then took the bottle from her and drank deeply from it as well, relaxing into his chair. For a while, they chatted about general things, making small talk while Dante steeled herself to lead it all up to the big news about her accompanying the knights to Ealdor. Gwaine waited patiently for the first half an hour as they passed the bottle back and forth, the ale helping to relax the atmosphere and bring out many jokes and laughter from them both.

Eventually, however, he'd grown tired of talking about the weather, and the impending snow, and Dante knew that he was getting impatient. But still she could not find the right words to even begin to explain.

She needn't have worried, however, because Gwaine soon provided the opportunity for her.

"So...this news...you're being very vague. Do I have to give you the whole bottle to get you to talk? Because you know that I will."

Dante rolled her eyes but reached for the offered bottle anyway, which earned a triumphant laugh from Gwaine. "Now spill."

"It's about Ealdor tomorrow," she started, before taking another large sip from the bottle.

"Yes, I know. You'll miss me terribly. Is this all you wanted to say to me?" He asked, sounding relieved.

Dante eyed him then. "Actually, I won't miss you at all."

"Oh charming!" He exclaimed, insulted. But then he saw that she was raising her eyebrow at him. She had more to say? An explanation for that cutting remark, perhaps?

"I won't miss you," she repeated, holding a hand up to silence him before he could protest again, "Because I'm coming with you."

"Oh...well that's alright then," he visibly relaxed back into his chair once more, and Dante took another small sip of ale, carefully studying his reaction, as if waiting for something. She watched as slowly his relaxed look changed with the dawning realisation. The ale had clearly slowed his mental abilities, because under normal circumstances, it would not have taken him nearly half as long to react to what she'd said.

"Wait..." he sat up again.

She made a pretence of studying the cobwebs that still stubbornly clung to the bottle, though she continued to glance sideways at him the entire time.

"Did you just say...?"

Seriously, it was taking this long for him to realise? Maybe he needed some help.

"I'm coming with you," she said again, calmly.

A few more seconds of silence. Then...

"Absolutely not! I forbid it! Don't even think about it, Dante Leandra Quincailan!"

"My full name?" she mused. "Last time I was full named, I'd just bashed my brother round the head with a shield. That means I must be in BIG trouble."

"Too right you are! There is no way you are coming with us tomorrow, and that's final!"

She set the bottle back on the table and watched him calmly. "I'm sorry, Gwaine," she spoke after a moment. "Arthur has already agreed to it."

"What? You went to Arthur before you came to me?"

"Of course I did." She was amazed at how calm she was remaining. Usually their arguments became rather heated, rather quickly - and she was always the first to raise her voice, whilst Gwaine usually stayed so calm. This time, however, their roles had been reversed. "He is my King, after all."

"Dante," his voice had suddenly dropped to a more normal level again. Only now it held no anger, but desperation and pleading instead. "It's suicide. Please, don't do this. I couldn't bear to lose you."

She almost caved then, at his heartfelt request, but forced herself to stay strong, for his sake, as well as her own.

"I have knowledge that could give you a great advantage," she explained, pushing the bottle towards him as a kind of peace offering. "Besides, I've already promised Arthur that I'll stay out of the fighting. I want no more part in it than you, and I'll be the first to admit that I'm no skilled veteran. I'll happily stay with the horses, out of harm's way! But you can't deny that you need the knowledge I possess. Please Gwaine...I want to come with you. I want to help! You can't keep me shut away behind these stone walls my whole life."

Very reluctantly, he took the bottle and downed the remaining contents. Then he slammed it back on the table and rose.

"Gwaine?" she asked nervously when he refused to meet her eye. "Gwaine, don't do this. Please...Gwaine!"

He studiously ignored her, pacing back and forth for a bit like a caged animal, before finally he changed course and walked back over to his armoire. Reaching inside, he pulled out a large decorated chest, which he then placed carefully on the table in front of her, looking at her again.

And that was when she saw the resigned look of acceptance he was now wearing. "I suppose now's as good a time as any to give you this, then," he said, popping the lid of the chest open and tilting it to show her the contents.

"You...you had this made for me?" She gasped, amazed. "I...Gwaine, I don't know what to say..."

"Promise me you'll be careful?" he suggested.

"I promise," she nodded, rising and stepping round the table towards him. "I'll be careful. You're not going to lose me tomorrow."

Then she threw her arms around him and gave him a huge hug, unable to put into words how grateful she was, not just for his gift, but also for his acceptance, and for his permission to allow her to join them.

Gwaine was not at all happy about the idea, but then he had to remind himself as he held her close, that he did not own her. He was not her father, nor was he her husband. He was just her friend, and she was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions now. She was more than capable of taking responsibility for the consequences of her decisions as well, and as her friend, he should respect her choices, regardless of whether he agreed with them or not.

"If you die tomorrow, Dante Quincailan," he murmured into her ear, "I might just die with you."

For once in her life, Dante had nothing to say in return.

...

The next morning, bright an early as promised, Dante strolled into the courtyard to find Percival already seated on the stone wall of the water well in the centre of the yard, eating an apple.

"Good morning, Milady," he smiled as she approached. Then he studied her up and down for a moment. "Nice armour."

She was wearing Gwaine's gift to her - a sleek, slim fitting chainmail shirt, crafted of very fine rings of steel that were strong and yet at the same time remarkably lightweight and flexible, allowing for ease of movement. Over this was a thick leather vest for extra protection, along with silver gauntlets, black leather gloves and a brown belt with a very intricate silver buckle. She also wore a pair of brown trousers and knee-length boots, one of which had a small knife strapped to the top of it. Her short swords were in specially crafted sheaths attached to the back of her leather vest.

"Thanks," she stifled a yawn, sitting herself next to him and hearing the links of metal chink lightly and the leather creak softly. "Gwaine insisted that if I come, I wear it. Something about preserving his sanity."

For a moment they sat quietly, Percival munching on his apple, Dante yawning quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear. But he did, and just laughed in amusement.

"You're really not a morning person, are you." He offered his apple to her, but she politely declined with a shake of her head.

"I'm usually an early riser," she explained. "But this is pushing it, even for me."

"Well you could have had another hour's sleep," Percival shrugged. "Gwaine won't be down until his hair's perfect, after all."

They both laughed as Elyan finally emerged, pulling on his own gauntlets as he crossed over to join them.

"Morning all," he smiled, sliding his sword free of the loop on his belt and twirling it around a little. "Anyone fancy a bit of practice before we set off?"

"No ta," Percival replied, taking another huge bite of his apple and crunching quietly on it. Elyan visibly deflated at that, before he turned to Dante.

"Milady?"

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Yeah, go on then. Will give me a chance to break this leather in."

So they spent the next few minutes trading blows back and forth to test the other's defences. They were using what was known as 'live steel' now - blades with sharp edges, designed for killing - so they couldn't afford to become any more competitive than the basic steps, but it gave them something to do at least. One by one, the others finally filtered out to join them - Gwaine unsurprisingly bringing up the rear, two apples in hand.

"Thought you promised me you weren't going to fight," he challenged as Elyan and Dante finally put away their weapons, giving each other respective bows of their heads.

"I was practicing defending myself," she retorted, catching one apple easily, as he threw it to her. He bit loudly into his own apple. "I have the right to defend myself, after all."

"Whatever," he said finally, through a mouthful of apple. "I've given up trying to argue with you."

Whatever retort she may have shot back at him was cut off then, by the loud clatter of hooves, as their horses were brought out to them. Not really that hungry, Dante studied the apple in her hand for a moment, then took the knife from her boot and cut it into eight segments, feeding one piece to each of the horses, noting their now familiar faces as she moved from horse to horse. All except the last, who happened to be a horse she didn't recognize. She did notice, however, that this must be her ride for the day.

This particular horse happened to be a beautiful chestnut mare with four white socks and a star on her forehead. She wasn't at all phased by the boisterous stallions around her, and seemed perfectly calm and at peace.

"She has no name yet," Arthur said as he watched Dante petting the mare and making a fuss of her as her saddle was put on by one of the stable boys. "She's new here. I thought perhaps she would save you from stealing Gringolet all the time."

"You're giving her to me?" Dante asked, stunned.

"Of course. Treat her well, My Lady, and she'll take good care of you in return. She's a beautiful creature."

"That she is," Dante nodded, stroking the mare's velvet muzzle. Then she lowered her voice, speaking to the mare, who's ears flickered in her direction as she listened intently. "So I suppose you need a name. And a pretty one, too. Give me time, and I promise I'll come up with something worthy."

The mare snorted lightly into her palm and she grinned, kissing her nose. "You take care of me, and I'll take care of you. Deal? We can be a team."

Again the mare snorted gently, and Dante took that as a sign of agreement.

"My Lady?" The stable lad finally said, holding out his cupped hands to help her into the saddle. But she waved him away with a smile and swung herself up and into the saddle with apparent ease. All that practice she'd been getting recently must be paying off. And not only that, but the mare was so well behaved, standing obediently on the spot, ears flicking back to listen to her mistress' commands as Dante settled herself lightly into the saddle and gathered the reins. Looking over, she could see Gringolet up to his usual tricks, prancing on the spot as Gwaine swung himself into the saddle. He let out a long string of curses, and the other knights laughed.

Dante, for some reason, felt a great deal of pity for Gwaine then, and gently nudged her heels into the mare's sides, manoeuvring her over to stand beside the highly strung stallion. As soon as he caught sight of the gentle, placid mare however, he calmed right down and finally Gwaine was able to jump into the saddle.

"Thanks," he muttered quietly so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Don't mention it," she responded, equally as quietly.

A few more checks of all their equipment later, the group were finally off on their next great adventure, riding in pairs out through the lower town towards the mountains and the kingdom borders way off in the distance.

Arthur and Merlin were at the front, naturally, followed by Leon and Percival then Dante and Gwaine, with Tristan and Elyan bringing up the rear.


	14. Ealdor

**Author Note: Right, so this huge mistake I've made regarding Gwaine...I was watching the episode 'Gwaine' today and discovered that I'd got it completely wrong concerning which King supposedly destroyed Gwaine's family. I thought it was Cenred, and that Gwaine was from Ealdor. Turns out he's actually from Caerleon, and it's King Caerleon who refused to help his mother. So, I've tried to remedy this mistake in this chapter, but for those who may be a little confused, I'll give a brief summary now.**

**Gwaine was born in Caerleon six months before his father was killed. His mother went to Caerleon to beg for help, Caerleon refused so Gwaine's mother moved him and his sister to Essetir instead, following the advice of his father's close friend Lord Ector, who happens to be Dante's father. That's how the pair of them met. **

**Because Gwaine's mother was left penniless by his father, she was forced to work as a seamstress to provide for her children, so when he was old enough, Gwaine went to Cenred, begging him to help them return to their noble lifestyles. Cenred also refused, prompting Gwaine to lose all faith in nobility completely and go off on his own, becoming the rough ranger that he is when he meets Arthur for the first time. Dante believes he has left her because of her status as nobility, and takes his lack of faith personally, along with the fact he was engaged to her and broke it off by running away - hence why she was so bitter with him to begin with.**

**Hopefully that kind of covers for my mistake, and makes sense...and if it doesn't...well, who cares? It's fanfiction after all. I can write what I want :P**

**Oh yes and...sorry about the cliffhanger ending, but I just couldn't resist, mwahahaha!**

**...**

By late afternoon, the group had finally crossed the borders into Essetir, and Gwaine and Dante glanced at each other, smiling slightly.

"Home again, home again, to go to rest," Gwaine recited, a common children's nursery rhyme.

"By hearth and heart, house and nest," Dante added with a knowing smile. Merlin, who'd been riding just a little ahead of them, glanced back with pleasant surprise.

"You know that rhyme?" he asked, slowing down to ride beside them.

"Doesn't everyone?" Gwaine replied and Merlin shrugged.

"I don't know. I mean, I wasn't sure if anyone else...I thought it was a rhyme my mother made up for me."

"Oh, we're sorry," Dante apologised. "Maybe she did? Maybe hers was different to the ones our mothers used to tell us?"

Merlin shook his head doubtfully, but he wasn't bothered by the possibility. In a strange way, he was glad that Dante and Gwaine also knew the rhyme - glad that it was a common gift from mothers to their children.

And glad, especially, that Dante and Gwaine at least understood the significance of the rhyme. It was clearly special to them, too, and reminded them of home, just as it reminded him.

He watched as Dante and Gwaine trotted their horses up a small embankment away from the group, coming to a halt so they could survey the scenery.

"As lovely as I remember it," Gwaine nodded, a contended look on his face. "I wasn't born here, but it was as much a home to me back when I was a lad as Camelot is to me now."

"I remember you back then," Dante grinned. "All gangly and scrawny...and clean shaven too!"

"Come on admit it, you love the beard," he laughed, stroking them. She laughed too.

"Makes you look rugged and manly."

"And my muscles have nothing to do with it?"

"What muscles?" she teased. He feigned insult then.

"Hey, you take that back young lady!"

"Gwaine! Dante!" Arthur's voice carried up to them breaking the moment. Gwaine held up a gloved hand to show that they'd heard and would soon be on their way. Then he turned back to Dante, who was still staring out wistfully over the lands beyond. Unlike Gwaine, this WAS her home. She'd been born here. He'd only moved here when he was very young, after his father's death and Caerleon's refusal to help his mother.

"Do you ever think about coming back?" She asked quietly.

"Sometimes," he admitted, his voice equally as quiet - as if they were afraid of being overheard. "But then I look at what I have in Camelot, and I think to myself, why would I give all that up?"

Dante remained silent. She had no answer for that, and didn't even attempt to think of one, either. Gwaine was right. Camelot was their home now. Whatever she'd once felt for Essetir, was slowly dying away, to be replaced by the splendour and beauty of her new home. Essetir held nothing but bad memories for her now - memories she'd rather forget. Like the disappearance of her mother, and the deaths of her brothers. Maybe one day she'd come back again. But not now. Now, she was only here because she had to be, and thinking of this made her heart sink.

The whole ride so far, she'd managed to put it out of her mind. But there was no escaping it. Treason and murder lay just over that next ridge, in the village of Ealdor, and there was nothing she could do about it without signing her own death warrant.

"Come on Vixen," she sighed, tugging lightly on the mare's reins, to set her off down the embankment after the others again.

"Vixen?" Gwaine asked as he joined her. And then he grinned. "Kay used to call you that."

"Yeah," Dante also grinned, glad to be given an excuse not to think about what was to come. Instead, she allowed herself to think back on what had already been. "Just seemed appropriate, somehow."

"Can't think why," Gwaine laughed as her mind wandered to some far off place, way back when she was just seven years old.

Cailan, her brother (or Kay as he'd insisted everyone call him, because he hated the fact that his name was Cailan Quincailan) had once give her the nickname Little Vixen, because she'd been a very sneaky child, as cunning as a fox, with a brilliant mass of flame red hair to rival that of any fox's coat. As she'd grown older, the flames had died down and the mahogany had replaced it, but her nickname had stuck, never-the-less.

Now she'd been given this beautiful chestnut mare - who's glossy coat of fur was almost the exact shade of red that she'd had as a child. Vixen was a name that seemed only fitting for her, and it brought a smile to Dante's face each time she spoke it, simply because it reminded her of her past, and her happy childhood - before everything had gone all screwy.

...

About an hour later, Arthur called the group to a halt in a small wooden area, giving them plenty of shelter and cover from anyone using the main road into the village.

"Right, I'm not liking the fact that since we crossed the borders, we haven't seen anyone," he told them quietly, as they all slid from their respective saddles and gathered closer so he would not have to raise his voice.

"There aren't even any patrols or scouts or watchmen," Leon added.

"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "Which is what's worrying me. We should have at least seen someone by now, so I want everyone to be on their guard from now on. If we're walking into an ambush, I want us to be prepared - take away their advantage of surprise."

"Agreed," the other knights nodded. Merlin glanced at Dante, then back to Arthur.

"What about us?"

"You're coming with us," Arthur started, and as Dante opened her mouth to argue, he held up a hand to silence her. "It's far too dangerous to leave you out here alone, unprotected, Milady. I would much rather keep you with me so that we can see you and protect you."

"But I told you I wasn't interested in fighting," she protested when he finally allowed her to speak.

"Yes, and I agree that you should not, under normal circumstances, join us in combat. But these are not normal circumstances and regardless of where you are, you will be in danger. If Lot's men stumbled upon you alone out here, I do not need to describe what manner of things they may do to you, the most merciful of which being a swift death." He let that linger for a moment, noting Gwaine's fists clenching tightly and Dante visibly shuddering in undisguised horror. Even the other knights and Merlin looked visibly sickened and Arthur knew, just from their reactions, that his argument was won.

Eventually, Dante was the first to speak with a resigned acceptance that quickly turned into a mischievous grin. "Alright then. Something here isn't right... Let's go and poke it with a stick!"

Despite the supposed gravity of the situation, the others found themselves laughing regardless. They quickly remounted their horses and started off through the woods that ran parallel to the road, the thick trees giving them a relative amount of cover from any prying eyes who may be watching the roads into the village.

...

"I don't like this," Merlin muttered as they rode into the silent village about quarter of an hour later.

"Quiet," Arthur hissed, holding up a hand to indicate that the group should halt. They obeyed immediately, each feeling as uncomfortable as the next as they sat and listened. There was not a single sound at all. No birds in trees, no chattering of villagers, not even any wind to rustle the leaves of the few trees scattered here and there. It was unnaturally, eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Dante shifted ever so slightly in the saddle, and the creak of leather sounded like a whip crack in the silence. She froze immediately, eyes wide in horror.

"Sire," Leon dared to be the first to break the silence after a very long pause. He leant towards the king slightly, unwilling to raise his voice even above a quiet murmur. "We shouldn't be here."

"I know," Arthur replied equally as quietly. "Something's going on. But if there are people in trouble, it's up to us to help them."

Sitting up straighter in the saddle, he turned his horse on the spot so that he was facing the others. "We leave the horses here and go by foot from now on. In pairs. As soon as you find anything at all, I want to know."

There was a chorus of 'Yes Sire's as they all dismounted, tying their respective horses to the nearby fencing. Then they split off into pairs, Arthur and Merlin heading north, Elyan and Tristan heading east and Percival and Leon heading south. This left Gwaine and Dante to take the west side of the village.

They started off in silence, Dante sticking much closer to Gwaine than she perhaps should have done, but he wasn't complaining, and if she was being brutally honest, she knew exactly what they were walking into, and she was scared. Morgana had warned her that she may meet her doom here today, but until they'd reached the village, this hadn't truly registered in her mind. Now, however, she was finally beginning to realise the danger she'd knowingly placed them all in, and it terrified her.

Reaching up behind her, she pulled both short swords out with a deafening ring of steel, and Gwaine jumped, spinning on the spot with lightning reflexes even as he drew his own sword, fearing an ambush.

Seeing Dante's embarrassed expression as her cheeks coloured, however, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't scare me like that," he hissed back as they continued on through their section of the village, searching every room of every building with growing tension. They should have been relaxing, considering they had so far found nothing, which would suggest that in fact there was nothing to be found. But neither of them exactly believed that, and if anything, they became more and more skittish as more and more of the buildings turned out to be empty.

By the time they'd met back up with the others in the very heart of the settlement, Dante was literally jumping at shadows. And Merlin wasn't much better. Even the knights and Arthur looked visibly troubled.

"You're sure your mother said it was here?" Arthur asked at last, rounding on Merlin.

"Arthur, look around you," Merlin retorted, throwing his arms out to indicate their surroundings. "This is Ealdor. My home! You've been here before. You of all people should know that it's always thriving with people!"

Arthur couldn't argue with that and frowned, truly stumped. What the hell was going on?

"Where are all the animals?" Dante suddenly wondered aloud as she glanced around.

"Forget the animals!" Merlin snapped. "Where are the VILLAGERS?"

"No, Dante has a point," Arthur said, holding up a hand to silence Merlin. "Lot could have taken the entire village as slaves, or had them all killed. But that doesn't explain why there are no animals. Where are the pigs? The cows? The chickens, even?"

"Maybe he took them for his kitchen?" Merlin exclaimed. "How should I know!"

"That's not like Lot," Dante protested. "He's never had any desire for the livestock before. Just the humans who could be turned into slaves."

"Spread out, check everywhere again," Arthur commanded.

"What are we looking for this time, Sire?" Leon spoke up finally.

"Anything to explain where the animals have gone. Track marks, footprints, anything. A whole village and its livestock can't just vanish into thin air."

As the others spread out once again, Arthur paused when he caught sight of Dante. "You alright?" he asked her, noticing that her hands were still trembling.

"No," she admitted as with a silent hand gesture by Arthur, he and Gwaine swapped partners. The Knight and Merlin headed off to the east this time, leaving Dante and Arthur to go west. "I should have stayed with the horses. Why did you make me come into the village?"

"It's alright to be scared," he reassured her as they started off, side by side, Dante still clutching her short swords tightly - so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

"To be scared is to be human," Arthur continued as he crouched down beside a pig pen to examine the dirt.

"How right you are, Arthur," a voice cut through the silence like a knife, and Arthur shot bolt upright, drawing his sword in one fluid motion as he and Dante spun on the spot, searching desperately for the location of the voice. They both knew exactly who it had belonged to.

"Show yourself Morgana!" He called out, as he moved to stand back to back with Dante. Then he lowered his voice, glancing quickly over his shoulder."Stick close," he told her quietly.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," she replied, raising her weapons and holding them in front of her defensively.

"Come out and face me you coward!" He called again after a long, tense minute of silence. Footsteps approaching from the left warned them of Percival and Leon's approach. Immediately the two knights fell into place on either side of Arthur and Dante, forming a square. Merlin, Gwaine, Elyan and Tristan arrived not long after, and the eight of them formed a tight circle, facing outwards, weapons drawn.

"Where is she?" Arthur hissed to the group as they all scanned their surroundings furiously. "Where is she?"

The other knights began grumbling to themselves as they looked everywhere for any sign of even the slightest movement. But Morgana was well concealed, wherever she was.

"I knew she wasn't dead."

"I don't see her."

"Keep looking. She's got to be around here somewhere."

"Morgana?" Arthur called out again, and finally he was rewarded with an answer.

"I'm here, Arthur," she spoke calmly as she appeared, seemingly from nowhere to stand in front of him. "Oh look at you, trembling like a leaf. Did I scare you?"

"What have you done with the villagers?" Arthur growled through gritted teeth as he raised his sword into a defensive pose.

"All in good time, brother," she smirked.

"Arthur," Percival hissed from somewhere to his left, and glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small group of bandits advancing from the trees. Then he glanced to his right and saw even more emerging from the trees on that side, as well. He didn't need to look behind to know that they were surrounded.

"Prepare for combat," he instructed the group, and he felt them all tense and shift as each man fell into their familiar defensive pose. From somewhere to his right, he also saw Dante settle into a half crouch, one sword reversed along her arm whilst the other was held out across her front. It was an unusual yet effective stance, he realised. She could defend with the blade reversed along her arm, as if she were wielding a shield, whilst at the same time she could attack with the other blade.

Morgana merely laughed as she watched them all. "Brave, but foolish brother. You're impossibly outnumbered."

"I don't think so," Arthur countered. "One knight of Camelot is worth at least a hundred of your dirty rabble."

"You sound so confident. But you forget, not all of you are knights."

Arthur's blood ran cold as he remembered Merlin and Dante. They weren't warriors. They had experience wielding swords, but not nearly enough to save them against this number of opponents. They didn't stand a chance, and he'd insisted on them coming her in the first place. He'd doomed them to certain death.

But he couldn't falter now and let Morgana see his weakness. Besides, he was a King now, and he knew that Kings often had to make sacrifices, whether they liked it, or not.

"Merlin and Dante are just as good as you or I, Morgana. Don't let their appearances fool you."

"Dante?" Morgana asked, delighted. "You've brought the Lady Dante with you? Oh Arthur, shame on you, putting her in such danger! What were you thinking?"

"Leave her alone!" Arthur growled as Morgana advanced on her secret acolyte. Dante tensed, not knowing what Morgana was going to do. She wanted to believe that Morgana would not let any harm befall her, but in a scenario like this, that would simply not be believable.

"Such a pretty thing," Morgana smirked again as she reached forward and took Dante's chin with one hand, tilting and turning her head in the pretence of examining her. Dante knew that the others would be expecting her to do something - lash out at Morgana perhaps, whilst she had the chance. Morgana was well within range of her blades, and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

But she couldn't do it.

She physically couldn't bring herself to hurt her mistress, regardless of how easily Morgana would find it to wound or even kill her, if she so desired. She decided that if she ever survived to tell this particular tale, she would claim that fear had a fierce grip on her, and she'd been unable to move in that instant.

Yes, that would be a feasible enough excuse. Fear can do all sorts of things to people, after all. So, going with the 'frozen in fear' excuse, she glared at Morgana, hoping that she would be forgiven.

"Back off, witch," she spat, not really needing to try all that hard in order to project fear into her voice as well as hatred. Morgana's eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments and Dante quickly tried to convey with her own eyes that she meant nothing by the comment. It was all part of her act.

But she needn't have worried, because Morgana seemed to understand. She laughed again, pushing Dante's head back roughly and causing her to stagger backwards a few paces.

"Well well, she's a feisty little thing, isn't she. No matter. She'll soon be just as dead as the rest of you."

Morgana backed off then, motioning to the bandits with a nod and another one of what had by now become her trademarks - a malevolent smirk.

The fight began immediately, the whole village echoing with the clashes of steel and the screams of the dying and wounded.

Percival and Gwaine moved straight towards Dante, meaning to protect her, for which she was grateful.

"Are you alright?" Gwaine called, above the crashing of metal, even as Dante got stuck in and they began to work together as a pair.

"I've been in worse situations than this," she retorted, trying to sound braver than she felt as she slashed at the man who'd just leapt on Gwaine from behind.

"Ah yes, I forget you're a target for trouble," Gwaine grinned, returning the favour by punching another man who'd suddenly grabbed her round the throat.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

...

From a safe distance away, Morgana watched the battle with great interest, noting how Arthur's claims about his knights weren't actually that far from the truth. All around them lay the bodies of the men they'd already defeated, whilst so far, not one of the knights themselves had fallen.

Even Dante and Merlin were doing well at defending themselves. Those lessons were a good investment, on Dante's part, Morgana had to admit. Though the price she had to pay for them was something of a concern for the witch. Was Dante getting closer to Gwaine than she should be?

She suddenly winced, breaking out of her reverie as she saw Dante sent flying through the air by Percival, who'd been knocked backwards by three charging bandits and had thrown his arms out for balance. Smashing her in the face with his huge elbow, he'd caught her with such force that she'd been lifted right off the ground and literally thrown backwards a few feet.

Morgana wanted to intervene then, call a halt to the fighting and allow Dante to find her footing once more, but she needn't have worried, because Elyan and Tristan were already running towards their vulnerable companion, dragging her back to her feet as Gwaine and Percival continued to hold off the wall of attackers.

When Dante - blood now gushing freely down her face - raised her blades again, apparently none-the-worse for the ordeal aside from a potential broken nose, Morgana breathed a bit easier.

But only for a moment. Because Dante had foolishly darted back into the fray again, apparently eager to prove her worth. She was no battle-hardened, seasoned warrior, but thankfully she now wasn't an exactly unskilled combatant either.

The other knights and Arthur fought gallantly, but they were tiring quickly, and now Lot's more skilled soldiers - clad in garbs bearing his symbol - had joined in too, turning the tide even further against Arthur and his group.

...

Elyan was the first to take a hit, staggering as one of the bandits got in a lucky strike with a dagger to his thigh. Percival was next, taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. Then Tristan fell, walloped unconscious by a shield to the face.

"Limited choices Arthur. What do we do?" Gwaine breathed as the few of them left standing moved to create a protective circle around their injured comrades.

"We fight," came the reply as the bloodied King continued on valiantly, despite the exhaustion.

"It's no good," Dante gasped. "There's too many of them."

"Arthur Pendragon!" Morgana's voice rang out then, and suddenly all movement stopped - the bandits and Lot's men retreating out of range, before closing their ranks to surround the small group. Morgana's expression showed that she had truly enjoyed the spectacle of the battle. "Surrender, and your lives will be spared."

"I will NEVER surrender to you, Morgana," Arthur replied without the slightest hesitation.

"Then I'm sorry, brother," the witch replied, in a tone that didn't sound at all sorry. "You will have to be destroyed."

She raised her hand, ready to give the signal again, when Dante, exhausted, dirty and bloody, stepped forwards. Knowing that there was no way any of them would survive another round of fighting, she decided that enough was enough. If anyone could make Morgana listen, it was her.

"You want a hostage, Morgana? Take me and let them go!"

"Dante, no!" Gwaine and Arthur cried out immediately, even as Morgana shook her head in amusement.

"You're a nobody. Why would I want you when I could have the great Arthur Pendragon instead?"

Dante had no answer for that, but it turned out that she didn't need one, because there was a crack of thunder, coming completely out of nowhere, the clear skies suddenly clouded over and a streak of lightning ploughed into the floor between Morgana and Dante, throwing them both backward, off their feet.

Merlin smiled ever so slightly as his plan worked the way he'd intended it to, and he was glad nobody had heard his muttered incantation. Dante's distraction had proved an invaluable one and given him the opportunity that he'd been seeking - to use magic right in front of Arthur's nose without him realising. Now the fighting had begun again, and everyone was too focussed on fighting each other to even bother considering where the lightning and the sudden lashing rain had even come from in the first place. So even as he continued to swing the sword at any bandit who came too close, he also took advantage of this fact, constantly summoning more of the lightning to aid them.

...

Dante staggered backwards, away from the last soldier she'd just killed, and gasped for breath. She was bleeding from several minor cuts, and one pretty painful one to her cheek - the blood from this particular gash dripping into the collar of her chainmail shirt and mingling with the blood from her mangled nose. Mind you, now that the heavy rain was hammering down around them, the blood had become severely diluted and there was not an inch of her that was not now soaked and weighed down by the sheer mass of rain that her clothing had absorbed.

She felt faint from the unending exertion of battle and this sudden extra weight that she was carrying. Her head swam violently, threatening to unbalance her, and she staggered again, shaking her head to try and clear her blurred vision. Raising a bloodied, dirty hand, she contemplated wiping the rain and grime away from her eyes, before deciding against it, considering how dirty her hands now were. Desperately she blinked the rain away instead, knowing that she was still in danger. A thought that was confirmed, seconds later, when a sudden glint of movement out of the corner of her eye dragged her back to her senses.

There was a sudden flash of silver again – the same flash that had caught her attention, just seconds before, which she had mistaken for another bolt of lightning - and then a rush of air like she'd taken a long, deep breath, followed by the taste of iron, as something flooded her throat, threatening to choke her. Exhausted and weak, she'd seen the attack from King Lot - who'd finally decided to join his men in combat - too late to do anything about it.

Letting out a gasp of stunned surprise, she collapsed like a crumpled flower, the dagger protruding from her chest, having been forced through both the leather and the chainmail, and a single thought flitted across her mind that this moment should be terrifying or agonizingly painful or perhaps even just terribly sad. But it was none of those things. Dante experienced it all with a kind of detached, numb acceptance, even as she coughed up great mouthfuls of crimson blood, the short swords dropping from her hands to land with a loud splash in the puddles slowly gathering around her feet.

_So this is death_, she thought to herself, before falling back and looking up through blurry eyes, even as she noticed that Lot was standing over her now, one foot on either side of her prone body. But Dante did not want, in her last seconds of life, to have to look at the evil visage of the man who was to be the cause of her demise.

Instead, she turned her eyes to a place beyond the King, up to the fast moving black clouds, floating majestically in the wind above the rooftops. Every now and then the sky would light up with another bolt of lightning, and the rain stung her eyes like a thousand bees, making it even harder for her to keep them open.

And then, very slowly, the world darkened around her and she felt like she was sinking or falling, being pulled towards the darkness. The sounds around her faded into the distance, her body felt numb as all feeling drained away, and as she coughed and spluttered one last time, tasting the bitter, metallic taste of the blood in her mouth, she had one last conscious thought.

And it was one of relief.

She would rather die here, now, than live and have to watch Arthur and Morgana destroy each other over the crown of Camelot.


	15. Aftermath

**Author Note: Ok, I did NOT expect to be left with no internet for several weeks, so you have my deepest and sincerest apologies for leaving you with such an evil cliffhanger for so long! Was not my intention at all, and so whilst I still have no internet back home until the 13th June at least, I'm making the most of this time round my b/friend's and using his internet to post, so hopefully this chapter will keep you going until I finally get my own internet restored.**

**On the plus side, I have got plenty of chapters written in rough and waiting to be double checked over, so there is no danger of this story ending any time soon, lol. There's still SO much of Dante's character to be explored.**

**Through Darkness - Thank you for your review, I appreciate that Leon and Percival also liking Dante may be a bit extreme but, well...I kind of have a crush on all three of them (Gwaine, obviously, but also Leon and Percival), so I guess I just let myself get carried away, lol. Anyways, I'll be sure to keep the two of them in check from now on and maybe find them some girls of their own, if I have a spare moment.**

**sexystarwarslover - Thank you again for your brilliant reviews as always, I'm glad my story has the effect I was hoping for - that it would read pretty much like an episode (or given everything that's happened so far, perhaps an entire series, lol) and I'm glad you're still enjoying it!**

**As for everyone else who has reviewed, thank you all, your thoughts and comments are much appreciated and I love reading what you guys have to say.**

**Anyways that's my ramble over now, so back to the story, as you're all probably dying to know what happens next, lol. Enjoy!**

...

Having been separated from Dante by the sheer volume of men pressing down on them , Gwaine was nowhere nearby when she fell. But he saw it all happen, watching in horror and rage as she was brought down by a dagger to the chest. Suddenly unafraid for his own safety any longer, he began wading through the increasing mounds of bodies, and the men who still continued to fight on, regardless.

One of Lot's men sunk a dagger into his shoulder. With a roar of fury, Gwaine turned and grabbed the man around the neck with his left hand. Reaching behind him with his right hand, he yanked the blade out of his shoulder, taking a second to recover from the blinding pain of the wound. Then, looking straight into the man's terrified eyes, Gwaine plunged the knife into his throat and dropped his limp body to the ground.

That was when he felt something snap within him.

Red-tinted rage swelled up, and he was blinded to everything else except Lot, who was slowly rising to his feet over the body of the woman who Gwaine was not ashamed to admit that he loved more than life itself.

His scream of rage carried clearly over the sounds of the battle as he charging forwards – his sword flashing constantly as it tore into anyone who tried to stand in his way.

But when he finally reached Lot, he didn't use his sword against the king. Just stabbing him would be too quick. He wanted to cause him ten times the amount of pain he'd caused Dante, first.

So Gwaine bolted forwards and, despite the thick mud and gore weighing heavily on his boots, he kicked with all his might.

Time seemed to slow and there was a crunch, weirdly distorted and amplified, as his booted foot smashed into Lot's face. Lot had been thrown to one side by Percival, who had also rushed to Dante's aid, and the King had been trying to stagger back to his feet when Gwaine lashed out. Percival, seeing the look in Gwaine's eye now, stepped back to let the knight take his vengeance out on the king, alone, realising that he would only get in Gwaine's way if he tried to help.

Now Lot went careening backwards, his feet back-pedalling furiously on the treacherous terrain as he tried to keep his balance, still in that weird slow motion. The fresh swell of rage that flooded Gwaine was clean and clear in its intensity, then.

It was a tidal wave of pure incandescent anger, over which he had no control. He hit Lot twice more before the stunned man fell backwards, both good solid shots with his empty fist, as the other still clutched his sword. Lot crashed into a tangled knot of soldiers who had been running to his aid and their mouths opened as they yelled. The entire scene was strangely soundless, and the suddenly frightened men began to scatter in slow motion as the other knights joined in, fuelled by their own anger at being unable to prevent Dante's fall.

But Gwaine wasn't paying them any attention. Instead he was on Lot again, his hand closing tightly around the other man's throat, choking him and at the same time pushing him down to the ground, deeper and deeper into the thick bog of blood and mud – threatening to drown him in it. His other hand dug his sword point into the earth so that now he had his other hand free. Lot's arm came up, like a sleep-walker's, but Gwaine avoided the dagger he'd been clutching, that would have otherwise sheered through his face, and deflected the blow with his gauntleted wrist, slapping it away. The movement continued, his arm drawing back.

The weird elongated noises around him drew away. Time slowed down even further, and his fist leaped forward an inch, then ducked back as Lot squirmed slowly, mouth half-open, blood splattering down from his nose.

That was when Gwaine let him go, his fingers cramping. Time snapped like a thick rubber band, and there was shouting and screaming going on.

Morgana appeared to be ordering a retreat, and Arthur was calling his knights to regroup. The two sides split in an instant, Lot dragging himself away from a furious Gwaine and running to Morgana's side.

"This isn't over!" She promised Arthur, before vanishing into the woods with the last of Lot's men.

The knights couldn't believe that they had not only survived hell itself, but driven an entire army into retreat. By now, the storm had also stopped, and had vanished just as quickly as it had arrived, leaving clear skies and brilliant sunshine overhead. None of them seemed to notice, however. There were no triumphant celebrations or cries of relief, as each of them suddenly realised the cost of their so called victory.

Staggering weakly to his feet, Gwaine felt the rage subside in an instant – draining away like water down a plughole – and his entire body trembled with exhaustion, pain and grief. He dragged himself slowly back to where Dante was now laying. His shoulder was on fire – or so it felt – so intense was the pain. But even greater was the pain in his heart as he drew closer to the lifeless form only a short distance away.

His knees buckled, a metre or so from her, but he didn't care. He continued on, pulling himself on his hands and knees through the mud and the puddles, straggly hair now plastered to the sides of his face, just desperate to reach her.

Finally, he made it, and gently lifted her head, cradling it in his lap, trying to urge life back into her body and looking desperately for whatever spark of life remained. His tears dropped onto her face, leaving tracks of white through the grime of blood and battle that stained it.

"Dante!" He took her hand, feeling how icy cold it already was. "Oh please, no..."

Percival dropped to his knees on Dante's other side as the others stood around helplessly. For those first awful moments, Merlin was frozen to the spot. He knew that magic could save her, but there was no way he'd ever be able to use it without Arthur knowing. And now really wasn't the best time to reveal his secrets to the magic-hating King. So he was just as helpless as everyone else.

"Dante just hold on, alright? Just hold on. Come on, just stay with us. You're gonna be ok," Gwaine continued, his voice threatening to crack with emotion as he continually rubbed and shook her shoulders, stroked her face and desperately tried to earn some kind of response. "You're gonna be fine. Just fine...Come on Dante, please...don't do this! Not now! You promised me! You swore I wasn't going to lose you today! Don't you dare break that promise now!"

And then, finally, his persistence was rewarded. She coughed - a ragged bark that brought up even more blood, and her eyes flickered briefly open. She stared up at him weakly, the hint of a smile touching her bloodied lips, before she slid back into unconsciousness again. Still, Gwaine could see uneven movements of her chest rising up and down with each breath, and knew that she was at least alive - if barely.

"Gwaine?" Arthur asked tentatively, also crouching down.

"She's still fighting," the knight told him, feeling the faintest of flutterings beneath her chest as her heart fought to keep going. "But only just."

"Then we need to get her back to Camelot, as soon as possible."

"She'll never make it," Gwaine sobbed, unashamed to show his tears now. As they gathered around, the other knights hung their heads sadly, and Percival gave her hand a futile squeeze of encouragement.

Then Merlin crouched beside Gwaine, his own cheeks wet, though whether he was crying or it was simply the water dripping from his sopping hair, it was unclear.

"I can help her. Gaius has taught me enough about this kind of thing. If we hurry, there's still a chance."

He didn't know how much help he really could be, but then what did it really matter? She was dying anyway. He couldn't really do much worse.

"You're positive?" Gwaine asked, though there was no hope in his voice. It was as if he'd given up, already. And looking at the amount of blood that Dante had already lost, added to the fact she was barely breathing and had turned a deathly shade of pale, it was understandable that he would feel this way. But unlike Gwaine, Merlin hadn't given up just yet. Because he had magic on his side. And what was the point of having magic, if he couldn't use it in these exact situations? And glancing at his mother's hut - which was just a few metres away, he was struck with his first big idea.

"I'm positive," Merlin nodded sincerely. "She's not lost to us yet. Get her into that hut and I'll do my best while you figure out what to do next."

"Sounds like a plan," Arthur agreed, leaping back to his feet. "Leon, we need a way to move her. Anything you can find to get her quickly and safely back to Camelot. Hurry."

"Yes Sire," Leon was moving in an instant.

Arthur bent down and very gently scooped Dante into his arms. "Come on sunshine," he muttered to her. With Gwaine, Merlin, Percival, Elyan and Tristan in tow, he ducked through the door to Hunith's hut and laid Dante gently on the bed.

"Do whatever you can," he told Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder before he left to help Leon. Percival pulled off his cloak as Tristan helped Elyan to limp over to a wooden stool and sit down.

"Here," the knight said, awkwardly and one-handedly tearing off large strips of it and passing them to Merlin. Whilst Merlin pressed wads of the torn cloak against the wound to Dante's chest, the other knights did their best to patch each other up with the torn shreds of cloak. It appeared that of the eight of them who had entered the village, only Leon and Arthur had come out of the fight with minor scratches. Even Merlin had earned himself a nasty looking cut to the back of one hand, though at the moment, this was the least of his concerns. Keeping Dante alive was his priority, and with Gwaine hovering over his shoulder, the pressure was really starting to build up.

"Gwaine!" he snapped eventually, losing his temper. The knight looked stunned, but backed off never-the-less and the others, sensing that he needed space, departed the small hut to wait outside.

"I'm sorry," Gwaine muttered eventually.

"Me too," Merlin nodded, immediately regretting raising his voice. Gwaine was just concerned, and rightly so. The young warlock weighed his chances then. Should he attempt to heal Dante, with Gwaine hovering over him? It would mean the knight would discover his secret - but Merlin trusted Gwaine more than he trusted any of the others. Still, right now Gwaine was not in his right mind. Could he be trusted not to reveal Merlin's secret?

Sadly, Merlin decided that now was not the time. He would be forced to resort to the old fashioned methods of non-magical treatments, at least until they were back in Camelot.

...

Twenty minutes later, the group were finally ready to set off once more.

Leon had uncovered an old, disused wagon round the back of one of the other huts, and after hitching Elyan and Percival's horses to the front - using ropes and belts to patch up the old worn out harness as much as possible, they laid Dante gently inside, on a mound of their cloaks, plus a few furs they had found in another of the huts. Her wound had been padded and bandaged to the best of Merlin's abilities, given the circumstances and lack of resources.

He'd had to use his own neckerchief to stuff into the gaping wound, because it simply wouldn't stop pumping out blood (being so close to her heart). It was just as painful for him to press the material right inside the wound, as it probably was for Dante, and he thanked the heavens that she was unconscious. There was no telling how much agony she'd be in now if she was awake.

Once he'd declared her ready to travel, Elyan and Gwaine - who were unable to ride their own horses because of their respective wounds - climbed up into the wagon whilst the spare horses were tethered to the back. Merlin, Leon, Percival and Tristan rode on either side, escorting the wagon whilst Arthur took the lead. Elyan settled himself so that he was sitting half sideways, his wounded leg propped up on a wooden part of the wagon. Then he took the reins and they started off back towards Camelot, whilst Gwaine sat with Dante in the back.

It was half a day's ride away, though considering it was now early evening, they would be forced to travel through the night to get there. They could travel at no greater pace than a fast walk, without fear of causing more harm to Dante during the trip, but Merlin had secretly cast a healing spell over her as Gwaine had finally left him alone for a few moments to help with the wagon, so he was confident that even though he had not healed her wound, she would now at least hang on until they reached Camelot.

What was going to happen after that, he could not say. But Gaius would be on hand by then anyway, so everything should be just fine.

He hoped.

...

Morgana watched anxiously from the shadow of the trees as the knights rallied to the fallen Lady, doing everything they could to help her. When Gwaine had declared that she was alive, she'd breathed a silent sigh of relief, watching them carry her into a nearby building. She stood silently for the next half an hour, waiting and watching. Eventually Dante was brought out and laid inside the wagon, and the group started off back for Camelot.

Once the group were out of sight, she finally turned to King Lot, who had been stood beside her the whole time, nursing his own wounds.

"You stupid fool," she spat, her eyes sparking gold as she struggled to control her anger.

"You told me it didn't matter if she got hurt!" He protested, raising his hands in defence.

"_Hurt_! Not _killed_! I need her alive!" Morgana snarled, throwing out a hand and sending him crashing backwards into a tree. He slumped to the floor unconscious as the very trunk of the tree cracked and splintered under the impact of his body, and after debating whether to stab him in the back with his own dagger - the one he'd turned on Dante - Morgana thought better of it, deciding that she would force him to endure a long, drawn out punishment instead. Then she stalked away, leaving him where he'd fallen.

She'd deal with him later.

Quickly jumping into the saddle of her waiting horse, she started to follow the group back towards Camelot, staying close enough to keep an eye on Dante, but not close enough to draw attention to herself.

They travelled through the night without a break, clearly desperate to reach Camelot as quickly as possible, and every now and then, one of the knights riding alongside the wagon would ride alongside, slide from their horse to the carriage whilst still on the move, and take over the reins as their own horse plodded alongside. After a while, someone else would similarly swap with them in a kind of tag-team relay. Moving from moving horse to moving carriage was awkward at first, even for the uninjured Arthur and Leon, but eventually everyone got the hang of it, and it became quite easy for them to transfer between horse and cart with relative ease, meaning that they could keep moving and not waste time stopping.

They crossed the borders into Camelot just after midnight and stopped once, at dawn, to let their horses drink from a stream and give everyone a quick ten minute break. Gwaine remained by Dante's side the entire time, muttering to her and stroking the stray strands of hair from her forehead tenderly.

They pressed on again after the very short break, each man forcing himself to continue on through whatever physical and mental barriers were threatening to break them at any moment.

Morgana had to finally stop tailing them when they reached the lower town, but made a silent promise to her fallen acolyte that she'd see her as soon as she was able. Then she turned and galloped back towards her distant hovel, before anyone could notice her and raise the alarm.

Not that anyone was paying attention to anything other than the sight of the five knights, King Arthur and Merlin escorting the dying Dante to the Palace, however.

Within an hour of their return, the whole kingdom was buzzing with the news. Nobody knew why Arthur and his knights had ridden out the day before. Neither did they know why the Lady Dante had accompanied them. But everybody now knew that she was fighting for her very life up in the castle, and as so often happens when several people try to speculate and guess what really happened, the rumours began to fly, growing wilder and more outrageously unbelievable as they were passed from person to person.

If Gwaine and the others hadn't been so worried about Dante, they'd have laughed at the rumours - maybe even made a joke of them. But not now.

Now was no laughing matter, and if Dante died, Gwaine doubted he'd ever laugh again.


	16. Emrys

**Author Note: Ok, well the 13th came and went, and I still have no internet...damned people are getting a VERY stiff letter of complaint, I have decided! But this also means that I can only use the internet round other people's houses, hence why I have not been updating regularly at the moment. Still, to make up for that, have these next 2 chapters, to keep you going. **

**I've got something to say about Merlin's spells in these chapters, but I'll do a small note at the end, just so I don't spoil this chapter for you, lol.**

**Enjoy! **

**...**

Three days after the whole incident, Gaius was standing before Arthur and Gwen in the great hall with some grave news.

"There is nothing you can do?" Arthur sighed, deliberately not looking towards Gwen, who was struggling to hold back tears. If he looked at her now, he would break down too, and he needed to be the strong one here, for all their sakes.

"No amount of medicines and poultices can touch the wound, Sire. I've done all I can, but it is hopeless. With your permission, Sire, I believe it would be kinder to simply let her go. I can prepare a special draught so that she will not feel a thing - She'll simply slip away peacefully in her sleep."

"You want to kill her?" Gwaine exclaimed stepping forwards, his face a picture of anguish. "No, you can't!"

"Gwaine, there is nothing we can - " Gaius started patiently, but Gwaine was having none of it.

"Magic!" he declared to no-one in particular. "What about magic? Would it heal her?"

"We don't - "

"Yes or no, Gaius! Would it heal Dante?" Gwaine demanded. Before Gaius could answer, however, Arthur cut across the both of them.

"Enough, Gwaine. Magic is forbidden. It's out of the question."

Gwaine couldn't believe it then, and rounded on Arthur, forgetting momentarily who he was talking to.

"If magic can save her, why aren't we using it? You are prepared to let a young woman - a FRIEND die because of your stubbornness and hatred over something you don't understand?"

"How dare you," Gwen started, leaping to Arthur's defence then, but Arthur held up a hand to keep her back.

"It's alright Gwen," he said quietly, standing and stepping down so that he was face to face with the angry knight.

"Magic was banned for a reason. It killed my father. It killed my mother. It turned my own sister against me. You've seen the dangers of consorting with anyone who practices magic. You've seen what these sorcerers are capable of."

"Yes, but I've also seen the good that magic can do!" Gwaine retorted, not backing down this time. King or no King, Arthur was just being stubborn, and Gwaine had had enough. "If it can save Dante's life...please Arthur?"

"No. I'm sorry Gwaine, but I will not bend the rules for anyone. If Dante dies, then so be it. I'm sorry for your loss, and believe me, I do not want to lose her any more than you do. This whole thing is a terrible tragedy for which I feel totally responsible. But not even my guilt is enough to convince me to allow magic back to the kingdom."

As Arthur turned to sit back on his throne again, believing the debate to be over, Gwaine stood up taller, a fierce determination in his eyes. "If it was Gwen lying there, dying a very slow and painful death, and magic was the only way to save her...would you refuse it then?" He challenged.

Arthur froze, his back to Gwaine. The knight could not see his reaction, but judging by the way the young King's shoulders tensed, he knew he'd hit a nerve. "I will not give in to this," came the eventual reply, and Gwaine could not help but notice how Arthur had completely avoided the question.

Without saying another word, he spun on the spot and stormed from the throne room. Everyone in the room remained silent for several minutes after that - nobody truly knowing what to say, or do.

"He has a point," Gwen whispered to her husband eventually. "Would your answer still remain the same if it was me who was close to death?"

"Of course it wouldn't," Arthur muttered in reply. "I'd do anything for you. Haven't I proved that already?"

"Then try to see things from Gwaine's point of view."

"I am," Arthur sighed. "But it's not that simple."

"Why isn't it?" Gwen challenged. "You think being King gives you the privilege of bending the rules to suit you, even though you deny anyone else that option? What makes you any better or more privileged than Gwaine?"

"I AM THE KING!" Arthur suddenly roared, startling everyone in the room, who'd been gossiping quietly amongst themselves until then. "I make the rules, and I expect everyone to obey them. Even you!"

With that, he rose from the throne and marched out of the hall in the opposite direction to Gwaine, leaving a stunned Gwen sitting alone and everyone else staring in her direction, equally as surprised by the King's sudden outburst.

Merlin could see that Gwen was fighting back tears as she also rose and left the hall, and it was hardly surprising. This outburst from Arthur was so uncharacteristic and unexpected...clearly the situation and his grief were taking their toll, and this was his only way of dealing with it. Everyone else grieved openly, but King Arthur, ever the professional, kept his cool, and held his composure until eventually the pressure had grown so great that he could no longer control the outburst. And woe betide whoever was in his way when he did burst.

In this instance it had been poor Gwen. But Merlin had been on the receiving end himself a few times now and knew what she would be feeling right then. Still, Gwen could take care of herself. Gwaine, on the other hand, was not in a stable state of mind. He needed all the help and support he could get.

So, turning quietly, Merlin slipping from the back of the hall, unnoticed, and broke into a sprint, catching up to Gwaine near the stable block.

The knight, although furious, was working quickly and carefully to saddle his trusted horse. Gringolet, sensing something was up, was prancing about impatiently, but Gwaine never once lost his temper with the stallion, which was surprising.

"Gwaine!" Merlin called as he ran into the stables. "Where are you going?"

"To find a sorcerer," came the curt reply.

"But Arthur's forbidden it."

"I don't care. If he wants to punish me then so be it. But right now, all I care about it Dante."

"It doesn't have to be like this," Merlin pleaded, fearing that Gwaine was about to condemn himself to a needless death for his actions, considering how vehemently Arthur was protesting about the whole thing. But Gwaine didn't seem to care.

"You heard Gaius. She doesn't stand a chance without magic."

"Even with magic, it's impossible to tell whether she'd recover or not."

"Who's side are you on, Merlin?" Gwaine finally snapped, rounding on his friend. Merlin backed away a little, afraid of this new side he was seeing to the usually carefree and happy-go-lucky knight. He remained silent for several long moments, that felt like they stretched on for eternity, before he finally summoned up the courage to speak again.

"I'm with you, Gwaine. You're right. Magic isn't bad. It's the person using it that makes the choice between good and evil."

"Then you understand why I'm doing this?" Gwaine asked, calming again when he saw Merlin's nod of acceptance. Satisfied that at least one other person in the whole kingdom understood his motives, he led Gringolet past Merlin, out into the brilliant sunlight of the courtyard.

"Gwaine, wait!" Merlin called after a moment, running to catch up again as a thought struck him. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know," the knight admitted, swinging himself up into the saddle and gathering up the reins. "Ask the right questions, and sooner or later you'll find what you're looking for."

"What if I could spare you the trouble and tell you where there's a sorcerer that would be willing to help?"

This surprised Gwaine, and he blinked. "You...you know the location of a sorcerer?"

"Yeah. Emrys. He was the man Arthur hired to try and heal Uther."

"The crazy old goat who killed Uther?" Gwaine frowned.

"No, he didn't kill Uther! Everyone thought he did, but it was really Morgana tampering with his spell," Merlin corrected, defending his actions, even though Gwaine had no idea that he and Emrys were in fact one and the same.

"Merlin, have you been consorting with Arthur's enemies?" Gwaine asked suspiciously.

"No!" Merlin started quickly. "It's just...rumours, that's all! Gaius hears these rumours all the time!"

"It's alright Merlin," Gwaine nodded in understanding. "If a knight's word is his oath, then you have my solemn promise. You tell me where to find this Emrys, and I won't tell Arthur that you're concealing a sorcerer from him."

And Merlin actually believed him.

Grinning, he stood on tiptoes as Gwaine bent low in the saddle. Whispering a certain location to the knight, Merlin promised him that the old wizard would be there. With a hasty thanks to the young servant, Gwaine wasted no time, heading straight for the location he'd just been given, suddenly full of hope once more.

Merlin watched him go, then ran in the opposite direction, out towards the woods behind the Citadel. Once he'd reached the familiar clearing, far from the view of anyone, he looked up to the skies.

_"__O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo!"_ He called out to the night sky, summoning the Dragonlord within him to ensure his command was heard. As always, he didn't have to wait long before a dark shadow descended from above, and there was a whoosh of air as Kilgharra descended to land neatly on the grass before Merlin.

"You summoned me, Young Warlock?" He asked, tilting his head questioningly towards Merlin.

"The Lady Dante's dying," Merlin explained as the Great Dragon settled down and folded his wings back into a relaxed position.

"Yes," he nodded. "Stabbed with an enchanted dagger, no less."

"The dagger was enchanted?" Merlin frowned.

"Did it never cross your mind, Young Warlock, why conventional treatments have failed to cure her or even heal her wounds?" The dragon asked curiously, and Merlin thought about this for a long moment.

"No," he admitted eventually. Then he looked up into the eyes of the huge beast towering above him. "Is there a way to save her?"

"There is," the dragon nodded, though Merlin was sensing there was more to be said.

"But?" He asked.

"But I will not help you to do it."

"What? Why not?" Merlin demanded. "She's dying!"

"I know," the dragon nodded again, patiently, as if speaking to a small child. "But I will not help her."

"Why not?" Merlin demanded again, growing increasingly frustrated. Kilgharra could be so incredibly infuriating at times!

"Because she is in league with the witch Morgana, and is a danger to everyone in Camelot. If you want to protect the future of Albion, you will let her die. But, if you wish to ignore my warnings once again, then I will not help you this time."

Merlin was frozen to the spot. He couldn't move. He hadn't expected the dragon to explain his actions, and he definitely hadn't expected THAT to be the reason, either. Surely there was some kind of mistake? Dante would never...would she? No, she'd fought alongside them in Ealdor when she could have turned on them so easily. She'd been mortally wounded by one of Morgana's allies. Morgana wouldn't turn on one of her own, would she?

And if she truly was working for Morgana, why hadn't Morgana whisked her away somewhere and treated her? Why had she left her to die?

"You're wrong," he said eventually, finding it too difficult to believe. He'd heard some ludicrous things in his time...but this was just going too far.

"Wrong about what, Young Warlock?

"You're wrong about the Lady Dante! If she really was in league with Morgana, why hasn't she done anything by now? She's had plenty of chances to act, but she hasn't! I saw the way she looked at Morgana yesterday in Ealdor. There was no love lost between them!"

"Looks can be deceiving, Merlin," Kilgharra warned. "Mark my words - the Lady Dante is a traitor and a liar. Better that she dies now to preserve the future of Camelot."

"But there's no proof! Even if I did believe you - which right at this moment in time, I don't - where's the proof?"

"I do not need proof to know that it is so. The Lady Dante is a traitor, whether you believe her to be, or not."

"So that's it. You won't help me?" Merlin challenged, choosing to ignore this last comment, The dragon shook his head.

"I refuse to aid the witch or any of her acolytes - no matter who they are."

"I'm a Dragonlord," Merlin reminded sharply. "And you will do as I say! Give me the spell to cure her!"

"I should have known you would not hesitate to use me for your own ends," the dragon roared furiously. "You have done it before. I should not be surprised that you would do it again."

"Don't try my patience," Merlin warned. "I ordered you to give me the spell."

"Very well," Kilgharra sighed. "But this is the last time you will ever demand such. Do you understand, Young Warlock? Dragonlord or not, I can still kill you in an instant."

"But you wouldn't," Merlin replied calmly.

"I wouldn't be so confident about that," the dragon warned before letting out a long breath of magic. Feeling the hot air pass over him and stir something deep down - a tingling sensation of power - Merlin briefly contemplated the dragon's warning. Could he really strike a Dragonlord down if he so desired?

Without another word, the Great Dragon rose up into the air again, vanishing into the clouds above. Without wasting any time, Merlin broke into a sprint, heading for the forest, and the direction that he'd sent Gwaine in earlier.

As he neared the abandoned hut, he used the now familiar aging spell to transform himself into the elderly sorcerer known as Emrys. Then pausing outside the hut for a moment, he took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

...

Gwaine was about ready to give up all hope, as he waited inside the tiny hovel. Merlin had assured him that this would be where he'd find the one known as Emrys, but so far all he'd found was an empty hut that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Dust and cobwebs lay over every surface and the fire in the hearth was long dead. It was so damp and dark, the windows covered by the ivy that had completely swamped the exterior of the hut, and he found himself wondering, more than once, how on earth anyone could even live in such a place.

He forced himself to wait for a good half an hour, at least, before finally the need to see daylight again overcame him and he started for the door, his last hopes dying as he realised that he would probably never find anyone who could help Dante now.

Before he'd taken three steps, however, the door swung open and an old man hobbled in, crippled with age, his hair and beard as white as snow. At first he seemed oblivious to the knight who had intruded upon his home, but it didn't take him long to realise that he wasn't alone.

"You!" He snorted, enraged. "What are you doing in my home? Get out!"

"Take it easy old man," Gwaine said quickly, raising his hands in a defensive manner to show that he meant no harm. "I'm not here to harm you."

"Then why are you here? The last time we met, you were trying to arrest me!"

"I was following orders," Gwaine protested, backing away as the old man advanced angrily towards him.

"And I suppose you're following orders now, like a good little soldier?" The old man snapped, his face screwing up in disgust.

"Actually, I'm disobeying them, this time," Gwaine replied, jumping back as the old man pushed past him, moving over to the fire. With a muttered spell, he made flames leap high in the hearth, immediately casting the tiny hovel in a warm orange glow.

"I'm looking for a sorcerer named Emrys," Gwaine continued quickly, before the old man could say any more. "Are you him?"

"Depends what you want him for," the old man snarled.

"I need his help. A friend of mine...she's dying. And I was told that only magic can save her, now."

"Friends die all the time," Emrys snapped, pushing back past Gwaine again and moving over to the dilapidated table, clearing the dust and cobwebs with the sleeve of his robes. "Fact of life, boy."

"Please, sir," Gwaine spoke after a moment, and his voice was no longer the usual confident tone of a cocky knight, but one of a truly broken man, desperate to save the woman he loved. "I will do anything you ask. Just help me to save her. I beg you."

"I take it she is more than just a friend then," Emrys spoke curiously, studying him up and down, seemingly for the first time. "If you are so willing to break the laws and use magic, to save her?"

"Yes. I love her, more than life itself," Gwaine admitted finally - no shame to his words, at all. "And I will do anything you ask, if it means she will live to see another sunrise."

"Even if I asked you to give your life in return?"

"Say the word, and my life is yours," Gwaine nodded readily, one hand on the hilt of his dagger. Emrys held up a worn, weathered hand and shook his bearded head.

"Put it away, boy. I don't want your life. Now tell me, what exactly has happened to this girl of yours?"

Relief coursed through Gwaine then as he quickly explained the situation - how Dante had been stabbed, and how nothing Gaius had done had even touched the wound, in any way. Emrys sat at the table, listening intently and nodding his old head sagely. When Gwaine had finished explaining, he stroked his beard thoughtfully for a long time.

"I cannot come with you to Camelot," he said at last. "Your King would kill me as soon as look at me. But I can help you."

"Thank you, sir!" Gwaine exclaimed, feeling the spark of hope in his heart ignite into a roaring flame then.

Merlin wasn't sure how the dragon's spell would work, exactly, but as he closed his eyes, he suddenly knew what had to be done - whether it be from the wisdom that came with old age, or through the power of the spell itself, he didn't know.

"I need a gem," he said after a moment.

"As payment?" Gwaine asked. "Name your price, Sir, and I will ensure it reaches you as soon as Dante is well again."

"Not as payment," Emrys explained, opening his eyes once more. "I need it to be able to cure her."

Gwaine froze then, realising that he had nothing on him of any value...except the sapphire embedded into the hilt of the dagger that Dante had presented to him for his birthday last month.

He'd kept it a secret, and not even the other knights had known about it. But she'd remembered, bless her - even after ten years - and had appeared at his door, bright and early on the morning of his birthday with a beautifully engraved box. Inside the box was this equally stunning dagger, which from then on, he'd carried with him wherever he went, even though it was more for decoration than actual combat.

How ironic that now, the very object she had given to him as an act of kindness, would be the very thing that would - hopefully - save her life.

Removing the dagger carefully from his belt, he laid the elaborate weapon on the table before the warlock. "Will that do?"

"Ah, a sapphire...Perfect," Emrys nodded. "Take it out and I will prepare the enchantment."

He rose and began to stoke the fire whilst Gwaine took out his short sword, carefully using the tip of the blade to dig the sapphire out of its metal casing. Then he moved over to join Emrys by the fire, holding the sapphire carefully in a gloved hand. It was no bigger than a marble, but it was heavy for its size.

"Here," he said, passing it over. Emrys studied the priceless gem for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction. Closing his eyes, he placed his free hand over the top of the sapphire and began to speak in the language of the Old Religion.

_"Affylan þéos sincgimm eac ælíf. Asælan hit æt sé forÞwíf Dante. Edcierr hie gecwicung." _

Gwaine stood back, watching as a blue glow suddenly shot from the warlock's cupped hands, and he appeared to be physically struggling with the effort of holding on to the enchanted gem. Gwaine had to shield his eyes against the blue rays of light, feeling the surge of magic engulf the room as the light touched every available surface, casting it in a brilliant blue glow.

Eventually the light died down and he looked back to see Emrys studying the contents of his hands again. Then he held them out, tipping the gem back into Gwaine's gloved hand. It glowed gently, pulsing with power, but strangely now weighed next to nothing.

After explaining to Gwaine exactly what to do with the gem, Emrys then walked round behind him and placed a hand over his wounded shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Gwaine cringed as the old man pressed on the knife wound. Gaius had done his best to stitch it, but it constantly throbbed with pain, none-the-less.

_"Gestathole."_

Gwaine's shoulder burned suddenly, but briefly as the magic knitted his skin back together, leaving not even a scar. Then the fire died down and he felt pain no longer.

"Now get going, before this young lady of yours passes on. My spells do not bring people back from the dead, Sir Knight."

Gwaine didn't hesitate. He was so eager to get going that he forgot to thank the old man as he left his hut. Reaching Gringolet, the enchanted gem now tucked safely away in the pouch on his belt, he suddenly remembered his manners and turned back. When he stepped back inside the hut, however, the old man had gone.

Deciding that now was not the time to marvel at the strange behaviour of magic folk, Gwaine leapt back into the saddle and started for home as fast as Gringolet could take him.

...

"He said to do what?" Gaius asked, sure he must have misheard, as Gwaine presented him with the enchanted sapphire later that evening.

"I promise you Gaius, that is what he told me to do," Gwaine assured the physician.

"I've never heard such nonsense," Gaius retorted as he took the sapphire and studied it closely.

"Perhaps we should do as he says?" Merlin suggested as he sat by Dante's bedside, carefully peeling away the layers of blood-soaked bandages. Gaius glared at Merlin for a moment, then seeing the look in the young warlock's eyes, realised that he was up to something.

"What exactly did he tell you about the spell?" he sighed, looking back to Gwaine again.

"He told me that it was an old Dragonlord spell," Gwaine explained, confirming Gaius' suspicions that Merlin was in fact up to something. "He said that Dragonlords used to heal their dragons with this enchantment whenever they were wounded in battle. They'd place an enchanted gem inside a vial of boiling water, leave it for a few minutes to work its magic, then remove the gem and get the dragon to drink it, in order to heal them. "

"Yes but Dante is not a dragon, in case you hadn't noticed."

"No, but he changed the enchantment. Made it specially for her. I heard him say her name as he enchanted it, Gaius!"

"Well, I suppose anything's worth a shot at this stage," the physician sighed again, taking a pair of tweezers from his bag of supplies and picking the sapphire up carefully with them. Then he moved to Dante's other side, opposite Merlin, and lent over to get a good look at the wound, that had now been uncovered.

It was deep and angry, showing no signs of healing what-so-ever, despite being three days old. Blood continued to ooze out between the stitches, though more slowly now than it had done at first. But even so, that was a LOT of blood that Dante had lost now. By rights, she should be dead already. It was only Gaius' skill and Merlin's limited knowledge of healing spells that had kept her alive this long.

"Merlin, you'll have to help me," he instructed. "I need you fetch a small vial from my bag. Gwaine, I need you to heat up some water."

Within ten minutes, the special brew was ready, and fishing the sapphire out with his tweezers, Gaius nodded at Merlin. He gently tilted Dante's head backwards and opened her mouth so that Gaius could pour the liquid in, a little at a time so as not to choke her.

Almost immediately they began to notice a visible effect as Dante's subconscious reflexes made her swallow the life-saving tonic, even though she herself was unaware of the movement.

As they sat back and watched, the blood stopped pumping out, and the wound began to close beneath the stitches, seemingly of its own accord. The colour returned to Dante's deadly pale cheeks, and her breathing became even and more measured. The pair of developing black eyes began to fade and there was a slight crunch that made them all wince as her nasal bone realigned and knitted itself back together. And then it was done.

"She's glowing," Merlin breathed in awe as he watched the various other cuts and bruises heal themselves and vanish to leave nothing but smooth, perfect skin once more.

"She always has," Gwaine replied, thinking that Merlin was commenting on Dante's beauty. But this wasn't what Merlin had meant at all.

"No, I mean look at her skin! It's glowing!"

"I don't believe it," Gaius exclaimed as her pale skin began to glow, ever so slightly blue - as if the moon was casting it's rays down upon her. And when he examined the scar on her chest - for that was all that was left of the wound now - he could see that it was no ordinary scar. It glowed a much more prominent blue - a thin hairline streak of sapphire. Even her glossy hair had taken on a slightly blue-ish sheen.

The blue glow lasted for no more than a minute, however, before it died back down again and she returned to normal - or as normal as someone in her position could look, right about then. Slowly and carefully, Gaius began to remove the stitches from the scar until all that was left was the thin line across her ivory skin.

"She's dazzling," Gwaine smiled in admiration, taking her hand in his own and feeling the warmth beneath his fingertips again.

"She's lucky," Merlin agreed. And then he frowned. "How are we going to explain this to Arthur?"

"Leave that to me," Gwaine assured him. "I'll take full responsibility."

"Your actions won't go unpunished."

"I know. But anything's worth it, just to see her smile again."

And Merlin found that he couldn't disagree with that. The whole Citadel had become a much darker place without Dante's infectious smile to brighten it up. Perhaps now, things could go back to the way they'd once been - everyone happy and healthy and, more importantly, alive once more.


	17. Back From The Dead

**Author Note: Ok, forgot the note at the end of the last chapter, so here it is now. The spell Merlin uses to summon the dragon is an actual spell from the show. It's Homeric Greek, which is what the show uses for all dragon spells. As for Emrys' enchantment of the sapphire, that's a spell that I made up, but it's written in Old English, just like all the spells in Merlin, so hopefully I've kinda done the magical world some justice, lol. If anyone's interested in the translation of the spell, let me know...if not enjoy this next chapter anyway :)**

**...**

Dante was bewildered.

Exactly that. Bewildered.

She couldn't understand - couldn't make sense of what was happening.

Pain flared across her entire body with every laboured breath and she was pulled continually into a blackness that cut out seconds - or perhaps it was even minutes - of the agony, making it that much harder to keep up with reality - if this was even reality and not just some twisted perverted version of the afterlife - or wherever it was that people supposedly went after they died.

Because she'd died, hadn't she? In Ealdor? That traitor Lot had driven his dagger into her chest, smirking with glee as he did so. So why was she still conscious? Or at least why was her mind still conscious? Thinking all these thoughts, even if her body was momentarily disconnected and unable to respond to anything but the pain.

She tried to separate everything in her weary mind, which was easier said than done when wavering between moments of blackness and moments of an odd blueness.

The blackness was silent and didn't hurt, but she was still 'aware'.

The blueness was accompanied by odd, muffled sounds and it felt like she'd been hit by a herd of stampeding horses, burned alive, done ten rounds with a dragon and fallen from the top of one of the parapets of the Citadel, all at the same time.

There were smells as well - blood and stone, mingled with the fresh scent of flowers and another smell that she couldn't quite place. Metal, perhaps?

The air was fresh, at least, and flooded her lungs in ragged gasps, confirming that she was breathing. The dead don't breathe. And neither do they dream...or think. And they're certainly not aware of their surroundings.

Slowly, she flexed one finger. Then another. Her hand curled into a painful fist. Then she wiggled her toes. Finally, the rest of her body began to comply, and after several long seconds of flexing the cramp and stiffness slowly from her joints, she determined that she must be laying on her back, somewhere.

She moved one hand slowly, placing it flat beside her, feeling whatever it was that she was currently lying on. It was soft and felt suspiciously like a mattress of some kind. Giving a tentative push to test how her body would respond, she immediately wished she hadn't.

The pain was incredible, and she let out a pained gasp, the breath literally knocked from her as her eyes snapped open and she saw stars. Her arm gave way and she fell back down again, into the mound of pillows.

After several long seconds to gather her strength, she tried again, and managed to eventually push herself up into a sort of sitting position, before the pain became too unbearable and she sank once again back into the mound of pillows. How thoughtful of someone to give her so many...which raised the question, where the hell was she?

When she was able to open her eyes again, she had no idea how much time had passed whilst she'd been unconscious, but as she slowly blinked and allowed her eyes to adjust to the light – or rather, the lack of it – she realised that it must be well into the night by now – maybe even early morning. She was groggy from whatever drugs and remedies someone had given her, so it took her a few minutes to realize where she was, but eventually her other senses came drifting back to her in fits and starts again, and she began to piece together exactly where she must be.

The drapes above her and the softness of the bed told her that she must be back in her room in Camelot. So the Knights had somehow managed to get her all the way home from Ealdor then. That was good.

And by the looks of things, it was night time in Camelot. And she was in her own bed, in her own chambers. But apparently not alone, as she heard the soft gentle sounds of someone breathing.

At first she'd assumed it was her own breath she was hearing. But then she realised that the sounds were out of synch with each breath she took, and frowning, she lifting her head gingerly from the pillow - just her head, this time. Not the rest of her body. After all, it was her chest, in particular that hurt the most, so perhaps if she only moved her head, she'd be spared the pain?

She couldn't raise it very far before the pain hit again, however, and she realised how wrong she'd been, clenching her teeth in agony, slumping back down into the mound of pillows and blinking in surprise as this time they almost engulfed her entire head.

Once she'd recovered from the shock, she stubbornly tried once more, determined to move, regardless of the pain she would inevitably inflict upon herself in the process. Lifting her head very slowly, learning from her earlier mistake, she just about managed to turn it to one side, and in the very thin streams of light filtering in through the drapes across the window on the far side of the room, she was able to see that she was not as alone as she'd first thought.

Gwaine was asleep, sitting in a chair by the bed side, head resting upon his arm, which in turn was resting upon the mattress of the bed itself, brown hair all messed up, eyes closed peacefully, but with a frown of concern etched across his features. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes telling her that this was probably the first time he'd slept for many days. He looked haggard and dishevelled, too. Like he hadn't washed, shaved or eaten.

It was as if he'd not left the chair unless it was absolutely necessary - and this did not surprise her one bit.

She smiled and tried to turn even more, so that she could get a better look at him, and her movements must have woken him, because with a deep sigh, he sat up, blinking. Seeing her staring back at him, he smiled sleepily.

"You're awake!" He exclaimed, before yawning and stretching his arms behind his head.

It took her a moment to reply. Her throat felt like it was on fire.

"What...happened?" She rasped weakly, all her strength gone. Just breathing had once again become an effort.

"Don't worry about that now," he soothed gently, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand tenderly. "How do you feel?"

She considered for a long time.

"I've been better," she decided eventually, and he laughed - such a joyous laugh that immediately she felt ten times better.

"Get some rest," she told him, raising an arm. When she discovered that this action didn't bring any pain, she gently moved it to rest on his shoulder, weakly giving him what she hoped was a comforting squeeze.

He raised his own hand to place over the top of hers. Then he took her hand gently, moved it to his mouth and placed a very tender kiss on the back of her fingers.

"Welcome back," he smiled warmly, kissing her hand again. She didn't have the energy to say anything, instead just settling herself back into the pillows once more. He reached up with his free hand, rearranging them a little for her to ensure that she was comfortable. Then he stroked her forehead softly until she'd slipped back into a peaceful sleep.

...

It was another one of those really tedious meetings about taxes and yearly profits that Arthur despised. He'd really rather be anywhere else right about then, but duty called and he couldn't ignore it. He expected to see the usual council faces turn up for the meeting, and for the first half an hour at least he hadn't been disappointed. But then, half way through Leon's recital of the taxes collected from the lower town, the doors opened and Gwaine entered, a huge grin on his face.

Arthur frowned, confused.

Gwaine really had no love for politics, and had made it clear on several occasions that he wanted nothing to do with the council. So why was he joining them now?

But then as the knight got closer, Arthur saw who was accompanying him, hanging gingerly off his arm in a desperate attempt to keep herself upright. The King couldn't help but gasp in astonishment, his confusion forgotten, as he held up a hand to interrupt Leon. "Well, look who's rejoined the land of the living!" He exclaimed, delighted, as everyone in the room turned to regard the newcomers.

"Yeah, she's a lousy patient. Stubborn as all hell," Gwaine nodded, his own grin growing bigger by the second.

"I'm not stubborn, I'm just restless," Dante protested, pushing his arm away. Gwaine laughed, understanding that she was only joking and backed off to give her some space. She stood there, wavering on unsteady legs for a moment, before Arthur jumped up and hurried to her, extending his own arm, which Dante accepted, glad to have the support once more, as she was still weak.

"Please, sit," he motioned to his throne, but Dante shook her head, mortified by the very idea.

"Oh no Sire, I couldn't."

"I insist," he said firmly but gently, leading her right up to it. Carefully, she lowered herself into the ornate chair as everyone gathered round.

"Thank you, Sire," she said after a moment to get her breath back. It had been four days since the battle of Ealdor, and although the magical cure had worked wonders for healing her physical wounds, she was still drained and weak. It would take her a good month at least to recover fully.

"Leave us," Arthur spoke to the council, who all bowed in respect first to their King, and then to Dante. As they left the room, they offered words of encouragement to her.

"It's good to see you up and about again Milady."

"Praise the Lord you've returned to us, Your Ladyship."

"Our prayers have been answered, dear Lady."

"You're as stunning as always, Milady. A picture of beauty."

"You are an inspiration to us all, Your Grace."

Dante took each compliment with a polite smile, and it was only when everyone had gone, leaving her, Arthur, Gwaine and Leon alone together that this politeness melted away to be replaced by a look of disgust.

"Your Grace?" She echoed. "Your Ladyship? Are those guys for real?"

"They were just worried about you," Leon pointed out. "Everyone across the kingdom has been praying for you."

"And I'm truly touched by their concern," Dante nodded. "But seriously? _You are an inspiration to us all_? Come on!"

"That's the council for you. Full of flatterers and fools," Arthur grinned, sitting himself on the steps leading up to the throne. "No offence Leon."

"None taken, Sire," Leon grinned as he and Gwaine also took seats on the steps. The three of them looked up at Dante as she relaxed in the remarkably comfortable throne.

"Hmmm, I could get used to this," she grinned, making a point of examining the elegant chair.

"Yes well, don't," Arthur advised, only half joking. "I've had it taken from me too many times now to let it go without a fight."

"Ah yes, Morgana," Dante nodded knowingly. And then she sat bolt upright, before yelping in pain and sinking back again as Gwaine leapt up to assist her.

"I'm alright," she insisted after a moment. Then, more slowly this time, she sat up again. "What happened in Ealdor? Did we win? Did you beat her? Did you find the villagers?"

"After Gwaine beat the stuffing out of Lot, Morgana panicked and withdrew the remains of her army," Arthur explained, before shaking his head sadly. "I sent men back to clear up the place and search for clues, but there was nothing. Any tracks that may have been left were washed away in that freak thunderstorm."

Dante appeared to consider all this for a moment, and Arthur got the feeling she may know more than she was letting on.

"Do YOU know where they might be?"

"Possibly," she nodded. "Have you tried the Castle of Fyrien?"

"No," Arthur frowned. "Why would we try there? It's nowhere near Essetir."

"Because Lot inherited it from Cenred, who in turn inherited it from Caerleon after his defeat at your father's hands. That's where he takes all his slaves to break their wills, before he sends them off to wherever they are needed. It's big enough to hold an entire village, from what I remember of my time there..."

"You were held at the Castle of Fyrien?" Gwaine growled, appalled.

"Like I said, Lot takes all his slaves there to break them - make them utterly subservient to him. I was there for at least a year - I don't break easily."

"You're more stubborn than a mule," Gwaine agreed, placing a hand on her shoulder as Arthur stood up and began to pace. Leon also stood up so that he was not the odd one out, standing off to one side with his hands behind his back.

"So you're saying this is the most likely place Lot would have taken them?" Arthur repeated after careful consideration. Dante nodded.

"And they would still be there after four days?"

"Yes. Lot leaves the slaves for at least a week before he sends the 'brokens' off to wherever they are needed.

"A week?" It was Leon's turn to speak now, picking up on Arthur's obvious train of thought. "That doesn't give us much time, Arthur."

"I know," the King nodded. "But we have to try. Gather the men. We'll take the army and ride out at dusk. If we ride through the night, with any luck, we'll be at the castle by noon tomorrow."

"And what about Camelot. Are we to leave it undefended?" Leon asked. Arthur paused.

"It could be a trap," Gwaine finally chipped in. "He could be expecting us to take all the men to Fyrien, leaving the Kingdom undefended."

"That's a good point," Arthur conceded. "Alright, split the army. Leon and I will take half to Fyrien, Gwaine, you and Percival will lead the other half to protect Camelot, should it come under attack. Gwen can rule in my stead whilst I am gone."

"And what about me?" Dante asked, attempting to rise from the throne. But Gwaine pushed her gently back down again as Arthur turned back to her.

"You, My Lady, are going back to bed. And you are going to stay there until you are fully recovered."

"But - "

"That's an order Dante," Arthur insisted, though not unkindly. Dante found that she didn't even have the energy to argue, and nodded.

"Yes My Lord."

"Good." He turned to Leon. "Rally the men, I'll join you in a moment."

Leon bowed and hurried from the room, leaving Dante and Gwaine alone with Arthur, who only now turned to study her curiously, hands behind his back.

"Four days?" he said at last, more than a hint of suspicion lacing his tone.

"Sorry?" Gwaine frowned, not really understanding who the question was directed at, consider Arthur was now looking between them both.

"It's been four days since the Lady Dante was almost fatally stabbed, whilst Gaius told me only yesterday that she would not live to see another sunrise. And yet here she is now, up and walking about as if it were no more than a mere scratch. And no hint of a broken nose either. Is something going on that I should know?"

Gwaine really had no answer for that. Arthur looked to Dante, but she was just as clueless as him. She remembered nothing from the moment she was stabbed to the moment she'd woken up in the middle of last night. So Arthur looked back to Gwaine again, his whole attitude demanding that the knight tell him the truth. Eventually, Gwaine sighed.

"I used magic," he admitted. He expected Arthur to shout at him, or fly into a hate-induced rant about magic. But he didn't. He simply remained standing where he was, arms folded firmly across his chest, a severe look on his handsome features. If anything, the only reaction Gwaine got to this revelation was a small gasp from Dante.

"I knew you would," Arthur said eventually, his tone heavy with disappointment. And for Gwaine, this was worse than the shouting and the ranting and raging. He could deal with that side of Arthur. But not this side.

"Arthur I - " he started, feeling the need to explain. But Arthur shook his head.

"You deliberately disobeyed me, Gwaine. I forbade you from using magic, yet you went ahead and used it behind my back, anyway."

"Arthur please let me - "

"I'll deal with you when I return from Fyrien. Escort the Lady Dante to her room then get out of my sight."

"Yes my Lord," Gwaine muttered, feeling like a small child again. Dante gave him a sympathetic look as he scooped her into his arms, but there was really nothing she could say or do to help the situation.

As he reached the door with her, however, he paused and turned back. "I will accept whatever punishment you feel befits my crime," he told Arthur, who nodded.

"Then I'll hold you to that, with the Lady Dante as my witness."

As Gwaine turned to leave, however, Arthur called them back once more. Only this time he was speaking to Dante.

"Lady Dante! It's good to see you up and about again."

"Thank you," she nodded in acceptance of his compliment. "Take care out there Arthur. "

...

Three days of unconsciousness had not been kind to Dante, and despite the fact that Gwaine, Merlin and Gaius had done their best to feed her with mixtures of honey, water and herbs, poured down her throat as she'd remained in her coma, the weight had fallen off her so drastically that now she weighed next to nothing in Gwaine's arms as he carried her.

Still, now that she was conscious again and able to eat solid foods, he hoped that it would not take long for her to put a healthy amount back on - if she could bare to eat anything, that was. She'd already turned away the plate of breakfast that morning, as it was, despite his firm protests.

Still, now was not the time to dwell on that. He was in a sullen mood, not speaking, and clearly troubled by what had happened between him and Arthur. Dante wondered if he wanted to talk about it, but then one look into his eyes had given her the answer.

No.

So she thought long and hard about some way to take his mind off it, even for just a moment. Finally, she had an idea.

"So, on a scale of one to ten – how scared were you that I was gonna die?"

_What an odd question, _Gwaine thought to himself. But realising that she was just trying to distract him from things, he decided to play along.

"Four?" he shrugged.

"Four?" Dante gasped, staring at him in stunned disbelief.

" Yeah, why?" he asked, innocently.

"A four?"

"Yeah."

"You were at least an eight!"

"An eight?"

" You were a total eight."

"An eight? Dante, wildeoren are an eight!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Yeah, they're terrifying," Gwaine nodded, trying to justify his answer.

"Then what's a ten?"

He paused and seemed to consider.

"Clowns."

"Clowns? Over my death?" Dante exclaimed glaring at him.

"I, I hate clowns..." Gwaine muttered, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze and wishing she'd pressed him to talk about the whole magic incident after all.

"Clowns?" Dante repeated, sounding no less shocked than she had the first time.

"I hate clowns," Gwaine also repeated, unable to look her directly in the eye.

"Oh my word," Dante groaned as she tilted her head back to stare up at the ceiling moving past overhead. "You thought I was dead."

"What?"

"Yep, you thought I was gone."

"No..."

"Yes, you did. I saw you shed tears."

"No I never!"

"Yep, you shed a bunch of 'em."

"Tears?"

"Mmm hmm."

"It was raining," he said quickly, trying to find an excuse – any excuse.

"No it was not." Clearly Dante wasn't fooled.

"You were unconscious and it was raining," he insisted.

"It was totally sunny out by that point, and you were bawling."

"It wasn't sunny and you were unconscious!"

"Whatever. I kept your tears in a jar. I have proof."

He paused for a moment, considering.

"Alright, I'll give you a five, how's that?"

"A five?" she repeated as he managed to open the door to her room all by himself this time. Then, deciding that this was probably the best she'd ever get out of him, she sighed, accepting defeat.

"I was scared though," he admitted as he laid her back in her bed.

"So was I," she muttered quietly, gazing up at him.

"For a while I thought I'd lost you."

"For a while, you had." And neither of them could deny this truth. Dante had been incredibly lucky, and they both knew it.

As he turned to go and leave her in peace for a bit, she grabbed his hand. "Don't worry about Arthur," she said softly. "Everything will be alright."

"I wish I could believe you," he sighed.

"You want proof?" she asked, as he adjusted the pillows behind her to make her more comfortable. When he didn't answer, she continued, regardless of whether he was actually listening or not.

"He knew that you had disobeyed him, as soon as I walked through that door, but he still allowed you and Percy to take charge of the remaining army in his absence. That is an honour - a privilege. Not a punishment."

Gwaine thought about this long and hard as he sat beside her bed. She could see him slowly working everything out in his mind, and smiled gently as her words sunk in.

Finally she let go of his hand. "Everything will be alright," she repeated. "I promise you."

This time she was rewarded with a gentle kiss on the back of her hand and a slight smile.

"That's better."

"Would you like me to stay with you for a bit? I think I'd probably lay low until Arthur's gone anyway."

"I'd like that. Maybe, if it's not too much trouble, you can fill me in on everything I've missed?"

"Sure," he agreed.

So as she settled back into her pillows, he told her everything that had happened, in great detail, from the moment she'd fallen at Lot's hands, to the moment she'd woken again. He had a real flare for storytelling, Dante discovered, but try as she might, she just could not keep her eyes open, and had soon drifted off to sleep again. Gwaine didn't mind. It felt good just to get everything off his chest - particularly the admission about going to Emrys and how he'd defied Arthur - and even though Dante was asleep, he liked to think that she was still listening to him anyway.

...

The tavern on the outskirts of the city was always packed with patrons - those coming to Camelot to barter their wares, those leaving Camelot having successfully sold theirs, and those who lived in Camelot and just wanted a quiet drink with their friends. It wasn't that hard for Morgana, therefore, to slip into the tavern unnoticed and make her way to the bar. Keeping her hood up was no big issue - she wasn't the only one trying to hide her identity from those around her, and therefore didn't exactly look too out of place, either.

Signalling to the big portly fellow behind the bar, she waited for him to amble over.

"What can I get you, my love?" he asked, leaning casually against the bar.

"Information," she said calmly. He took one look at her face beneath the hood and gasped. But before he could call out for the guards, Morgana had uttered a spell to remove his voice. Try as he might, no sound came out. Eventually, after making himself blue in the face with the effort, he realised it was futile, and stared back at Morgana fearfully.

"Do I have your attention now?" she asked in a low voice that made him tremble. Knowing better than to get on her bad side, after the rumours that he had heard, the man nodded. She studied him for a moment, judging his intentions, then finally decided that he was telling the truth.

"Now," she said, leaning casually on the bar and motioning with her hand for him to come closer. "I need information and you're going to give it to me. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Be a good man and tell me everything I want to know, and you have my word that I will leave you in peace. But even so much as make eye contact with any of the guards or knights in this room with us right now, and I will not hesitate to run you through." Her cloak fell open slightly to reveal a glittering dagger tucked into her belt. The man gulped.

"Now, are you going to be a good little man?"

Again, he nodded. Morgana's eyes flashed gold for a fraction of a second.

"Now tell me, what news of the Lady Dante?"

"She," the man started, and then jumped, startled at the return of his voice. He cleared his throat and started again.

"She was brought back here four days ago, clinging to the last few strands of life. Someone tried to murder her, so I've heard, and they damn near succeeded too."

"Tried?" Morgana asked hopefully. "You mean she is not dead then?"

"No, Milady. Not so far as I've heard. News from the castle is she's still hanging in there. Still fighting the fight."

Morgana let out a relieved sigh then, and nodded. This was the best piece of news she'd heard for a long time. Reaching down to a small leather pouch on her belt, she pulled out five gold coins and pressed them into the man's hand. He stared at them in astonishment as she turned and left quietly - just as she'd told him she would. Then he looked around to see who had been watching, before pocketing the gold and carrying on with his job, trying to act as if nothing had happened. After all, if anyone found out he'd been conversing with the King's mortal enemy, he may well lose more than just his job.

But nobody seemed to have paid him or Morgana the slightest bit of attention, and her five gold coins were more than enough to buy his silence. After all, that was more than he earned in an entire week. Though he did have to wonder what the Lady Dante had to do with the witch...and why had Morgana sounded so relieved when she'd found out that the Lady still lived?

A curious thing, indeed.

Still, he valued his life too much to dwell on it any further, and simply went back to serving the patrons their drinks, thinking no more on it.

...

As Morgana ducked and wove through the heavy traffic outside the inn - dodging horses and sliding between groups of people, she kept her head down and her hood up - nobody could possibly have known who she was.

Unless they'd been following her.

A tug on the hem of her robe caused her to jump in alarm and reach for her dagger. Spinning on the spot, however, she saw a small child, no older than seven at most, looking up at her with huge sapphire eyes.

"Milady?" The boy asked timidly.

"Go away," Morgana said, trying to shoo him off before he brought any unwanted attention her way.

"Milady!" The little boy said again more urgently this time. "I have information. Please Milady, I beg you!"

"Go away," she told him again, just as forcefully. "I want nothing from you, and I shall call the guards if you do not leave me be."

"No you won't. You're the Lady Morgana. They'll want to catch you more than they'll want me," he pointed out.

"How do you know me?" She growled, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him into an empty alleyway. Until that point she'd been willing to believe that he was just some random beggar who had mistaken her for a noble woman. Now that he'd actually named her, however, she knew that this was not the case. He had not chosen her at random from the crowd, but rather sought her out.

Drawing her dagger, she intended to cut short his pathetic life before he could run to Arthur with the news that she'd been seen skulking in his kingdom, when the boy began to cry.

"Please don't hurt me Milady! I have information about Lady Dante! I only wanted to do a trade, like you did with Mr Smith! My family's starving and that money could do us so much good!"

Something about his sobs and protests wrenched at Morgana's heart, and she hesitated, suddenly unsure what to do.

The sensible thing, she told herself, would be to gut the little rat before he ran off blabbing. But another voice in the back of her mind was telling her that he was just a child. She'd never had any quarrel with children before. Children were innocent. They did not know the harsh realities of the world around them and could not be expected to take the blame for the actions of their forbearers.

"Speak quick then," she told him, lowering the dagger and letting him go. He staggered back a few paces, glanced about to make sure they were alone, then began to explain what he had found out.

"My big brother's a squire in the castle, Milady. I was visiting him the other day to give him his lunch when the King's manservant and Sir Gwaine came to the stables. At first it seemed like they were arguing about something. My brother and I ducked out of sight behind some bales of hay and listened. It seemed the Lady Dante was not getting any better and the King wanted to kill her out of mercy, but Sir Gwaine wanted to try magic to heal her first. The King forbade it, but he was going to go ahead and defy him anyway. Then Merlin told him about a sorcerer who could help. He told him where to go, and Sir Gwaine promised to keep it a secret that Merlin knew the sorcerer. Then he went galloping off to find him."

This was much more interesting information than Morgana had ever expected from the boy and for a moment she was rendered speechless as she took it all in. Then she snapped back to her senses.

"Who was this sorcerer they spoke of?"

"It was hard to hear, Milady. They'd moved into the courtyard by this point. But it sounded something like 'Empress'. I remember because I thought it was a weird name."

"Empress?" Morgana repeated, confused. "Empress?...Em...Emrys!"

"Yeah that's it! Emrys!" The boy nodded.

"And...and was he...did Gwaine bring him back...to the castle?" Morgana asked, fighting to hold back the shock and fear at hearing that name.

"I don't know if he found him, but Sir Gwaine was alone when he returned."

Morgana turned away and began to pace for a moment. The boy took this as his cue to leave, thinking that she probably wouldn't be willing to depart with any more money in the near future - not with the look she'd given him as he'd confirmed the name Emrys. It was like she'd seen a ghost.

As he reached the opposite end of the short alley, however, she called back to him.

"What's your name boy?"

"Tomas, milady!"

"You haven't seen me, Tomas, and this conversation never took place. Do I need to tell you what will happen if anyone ever finds out?"

"No milady," he assured her. He may have been just seven years of age, but he was old enough to understand a threat when he heard one. She nodded, then pulled out her pouch of gold coins. There weren't many left inside - perhaps six or seven - so she tossed the whole pouch to him.

"Thank you Tomas. You have been a great help."

"Thank you, Milady!" He bowed to her, before tying the pouch to his belt and running out of the alley as fast as his little legs would carry him.

This new development had given her much to think about, and now only raised more questions than answers.

How did Merlin know Emrys?

Why was her mortal enemy helping to save the life of her acolyte?

Did he know that Dante was working for her?

Did he give Gwaine a cure?

If he did, had it worked?

And if it had worked, why hadn't people been told that she was alright?

Why were they still believing that she was fighting for her life?

Why hadn't Arthur allowed magic to be used to cure Dante? His own father had permitted the use of magic in extreme circumstances despite his hatred of it. Why hadn't Arthur?

And what was Emrys up to? What was his game?

Was he hoping to win Dante's favour, then turn her against her own mistress?

_Dante's far too loyal for that, _she tried to convince herself during the long walk back to her hut. _She'd never willingly turn against me...would she?_


	18. Visions Of The Past

**Author Note: Hoorah, I finally have the internet back, which means that I can finally continue on with the story. I hope this impromptu hiatus hasn't put any of you off reading further, because things will really start to liven up soon. Without giving too much away, let me say one word - Saxons.**

**Got your interest now? Lol.**

**Anyways, in the meantime, enjoy this chapter. It kind of delves a little into Dante's past, as I realised that I've focussed greatly on the present with her, but not very much on her past - where she comes from, what made her into the person she is today, etc...so here's a few little snippets of her past life, that are finally coming back to haunt her.**

**And for those of you who may have noticed the front cover I've given the story, it is one I made myself using photoshop, because i had intended on turning this into a real book for my friends and family to read as well, complete with actual pictures etc. If anyone is interested in these pics, let me know and I'll find a way to display them for you. You can finally see Dante in the flesh - because yes, I had a likeness in mind when writing her, and in fact it is her that you can see on the cover, lol. **

**So, enough from me, for now, I'll let you all get back to reading. Enjoy, as always, and don't forget to review :D xx**

**...**

Whilst Arthur and his men were away, Gwaine was kept busy working alongside Percival, Guinevere and the council to keep order in the kingdom, and so rarely got any chance to visit Dante and keep her company. Everyone else was busy with their duties too, leaving her with extremely long and tedious periods alone, stuck in her chambers because she was still too weak to go very far unaided.

The furthest she'd managed to reach on her own was the Castle Library, where Lord Geoffrey had quickly offered her his seat when he'd seen her stagger in, pale from the exertion of making her way through half the Citadel.

As she'd collapsed into his seat, grateful for a chance to rest, he'd hurried to cater for her every whim, fetching each of the heavy tomes and books that she requested, and even calling two guards to help escort her and her collection of books back to her room. This had been just after midday on the very day Arthur had left.

Now, four days later, she was pouring over the latest of the borrowed books, as reading was about one of the few things that she could do without causing herself any pain - other than a mild headache when she strained her eyes from over-reading, or when the light faded and day turned to night.

This particular book was a thick leather bound tome written hundreds of years previously - its pages now brittle and yellow with age. The dark leather of the cover was etched with a very familiar golden dragon, but as she opened the book to the first page, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was not in fact a history about the Pendragon family, but rather a rumination on the history and properties of dragons in general.

She didn't remember requesting this particular book, but Geoffrey must have slipped it into the pile without her notice, apparently thinking it may be of some interest to her.

And it was.

Dragons had always fascinated Dante, for as long as she could remember. Dragons and unicorns. The sigil of her father's house was a prancing unicorn. The sigils of both her mother's house and Arthur's was a dragon. Perhaps this was a sign? Though what the sign was supposed to be telling her, she had no idea.

Sitting back in the chair and propping the heavy volume against the pile of other books already on the table, she reached for her cup, took a sip of the wine, then opened the book at a random page and began to read about the properties of dragon bone.

**Dragon bone is black because of its high iron content**, the book told her**. It is as strong as steel, yet lighter and far more flexible, and of course utterly impervious to fire. Dragon bone bows are greatly prize, and small wonder. An archer so armed can outrange any wooden bow, whilst dragon bone armour is the most sought after and expensive armour in the known world.**

She paused momentarily in her reading to reflect on this piece of information. Her father had a dragon bone dagger - a gift to him from her mother on their wedding day - and she remembered finding it one evening when she was searching his room.

_She'd been looking for where he'd hidden her confiscated wooden animals, after she'd been caught throwing them at her brothers (having discovered that they made brilliant missiles that flew far and fast, if thrown in the proper way - and also made a fantastic noise if you bounced them just right off a helmet or a plate of armour). _

_ Defiant, even in her youth, Dante had waited until her father had gone to sort out some feud in the nearby village between a farmer and a merchant, and had then crept into his room to search for her beloved toys. It was then that she'd found his dagger, wrapped so carefully in purple silk that at first she was almost afraid to unwrap it. She recognized the sigil of her mother's family - the bronze dragon of the Amells - on the silk and had known straight away that it was an object of great importance and value to her father._

_ Reverently and with all the care and respect a six year old could manage, she unwrapped the dagger and sat on the floor of her father's bedroom for hours, just staring at the dragon bone blade. _

_ As black as onyx, polished smooth and shimmering in the light of an overhead torch in its bracket, the blade was both deadly and beautiful at the same time. The handle was also dragon bone, a prancing unicorn carved into one side and a ribbon of purple tied around the tang where the blade joined the hilt. _

_ She'd been unable to put it down, even when her father had returned - the quarrel in the village now settled. He'd come up to his room to change out of his 'Lordly Attire' as he'd often called it, only to find his wilful daughter sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bedchambers, holding the dagger, completely lost in its beauty. _

_ "Mind the blade," he'd told her gently as he'd sat down to join her. "It's sharper than any steel edge." And just to demonstrate, he took it from her and ran his thumb ever so lightly along the blade. His skin barely even touched the edge, yet beads of crimson bled out straight away and he showed her the neat slice before raising his thumb to suck away the blood. Then he took the bottom of his cloak (which he was still wearing) and used the knife to neatly cut a strip of material, which he then attempted to tie one handed round his thumb._

_ "Come here, father," she'd sighed like an old woman, taking the strip from him and tying it into a six year old's equivalent of a knot - that is to say, several knots on top of one another, nowhere near tight enough to be effective. Her father had laughed, all the same and placed the knife to one side away from her, just to be safe._

_ When she'd finished, he inspected her 'handiwork' then glanced up at her as she sat beside him, legs still crossed, but with her arms now folded as well and a look of severe concentration that she'd worn all the way through her 'bandaging' of his thumb. _

_ "You are so much like your mother," he'd told her sadly, and suddenly she'd found her eyes brimming with tears. It had only been six months since Evelyn Quincailan's disappearance after all, and the pain was still raw for them all._

_ "I miss her," she'd whispered. And then the grief had flooded her and she'd turned away from him. "It was my fault...I asked her to go riding with me. I BEGGED her!" She cried. "It was my fault, and now she's gone, and..."_

_ Suddenly her father's arms were around her. He gently held her as she turned and sobbed against his big strong chest. "No, my Baby Vixen," he whispered. "Grieve for your mother, but never blame yourself. It was not your fault, and there is nothing you could have done."_

_ "But if I hadn't begged her to go riding..." she'd sniffed, clinging to him as if afraid he'd disappear too._

_ "Fate never comes to us at a time of our choosing, Little Vixen. And it was fate that decided the outcome of that day, not you, nor I, nor even your mother. So don't dwell on the past. Instead, think about the future, and what it will bring."_

_ "I'm going to find mother, and I'm going to make the bastards who stole her pay for what they did!" She announced suddenly, with absolute conviction and resolve. He let out a bark of laughter at that._

_ "Where did you hear that word?" he asked, through his peals of laughter._

_ "Alistair," Dante shrugged. "He calls Cailan it all the time."_

_ "Does he now?" her father had replied thoughtfully. Then he reached down and took up the dagger again, holding it carefully by the blade and offering it to her. "Here."_

_ She'd stared at the dragon bone blade in shock, afraid to reach for it in case he pulled it away from her again. But he nodded encouragingly. "Go on, it's yours."_

_ She took it carefully. "I can keep it? But it's yours!"_

_ "Yes," he smiled. "A gift from your mother. But when you were born, it was decided that when you were of a proper age, we would give it to you instead. Alistair is to inherit our lands, power and wealth, Cailan is to inherit our army...it seemed only fair that you inherit something. It's not much, of course, but we never truly got the chance to decide what else should become yours."_

_ "I don't want anything else!" She exclaimed. "I just want this!"_

_ "You are sure?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "So easily pleased," he'd smiled then, picking up the purple velvet and helping her to wrap the blade again so that she could not harm herself accidentally. _

_ "Mind the blade," he'd reminded her, before ushering her out of his room so that he could finally get changed into more comfortable clothes in peace._

Dante set the tome about dragons down for a moment, overcome with a sudden sadness. When she'd left her home in the middle of the night, she'd been sure to pack everything she could think of. The dagger had been sitting beside her pack, ready to be tucked into her belt when the time came for her to make her departure, but something had startled her at the last moment - an unexpected visit from her father to bid her goodnight, if she remembered correctly - and she'd hastily stashed the dagger and her pack under her bed as she'd thrown herself under the covers, feigning sleep. When the coast was once again clear, she'd grabbed her pack and taken her leave, forgetting about the dagger, which still lay under her bed.

By the time she'd realised her mistake, it was too late to turn back, and she'd reluctantly had to leave it behind. Despite being a grown woman, she'd cried herself to sleep that night, in a cave in the middle of a dense forest, grieving for the most treasured object she'd ever owned.

Suddenly in no mood to think about dragons any longer, she closed the tome with a dull thud, coughed at the cloud of dust that was choked out from the pages, then reached for her cup to take another sip of wine - only to discover that it was empty.

"Why is the wine gone?" She grumbled, pulling herself gingerly to her feet. Making her way over to the door of her chambers, she cracked it open and peered out to see the usual two guards posted outside - under Arthur's orders.

He'd insisted that two guards be posted outside her room at all times, whilst another two were posted down in the courtyard directly beneath her window and a further two were posted at the bottom of the winding staircase that led up to her room. He was afraid that Lot would send someone to finish the job this time, and Dante was actually inclined to agree with him. She'd been caught completely off guard by Lot's savage attack in Ealdor, and from the brief glimpse she'd caught of Morgana as she'd fallen, it had been as much of a shock to the witch, as well. Definitely not a planned attack then.

What she'd done to earn Lot's ire, she could not say, but it seemed that he now had it in for her regardless.

Today's guards - Erek and Lucan - were two of the more friendly guards assigned to protect her, and as she politely cleared her throat, they turned to her with smiles.

"What can we do for you, Milady?" Erek asked.

"You can tell me why the wine is always gone?" she only half joked, and Lucan grinned.

"Would Milady like another bottle brought up?"

"Oh no, don't disobey your mandate," she shrugged. "I was just curious, that's all."

Lucan shrugged. "It is no trouble, Milady, I assure you."

"Well," she grinned back. "If you're sure?"

Half an hour later, she was sitting back at the table again, with a fresh bottle of wine on the table, her cup once again full and the book of dragons open in front of her once more, (this time to a different chapter about the legends surrounding dragons - a lighter topic that did not stir up so many unwanted memories).

And a few hours after that, when Gwaine came to check on her before he retired to his own chambers for the night, he found her asleep at the table, using the thick book as a pillow - ironically on the page containing the Pendragon sigil and explaining how Arthur's ancestors had come to take it as their own in the first place.

Gwaine carried her to bed, then placed an empty sheet of parchment on the page as a marker, closed the thick tome and hefted it on top of the pile. It wasn't the lightest book in the world, after all, and he wondered how much of it she'd actually read before she'd succumbed to sleep.

"More than I ever will," he muttered to himself, before taking his leave of her chambers and heading back to his own.

...

Dante lurched upright in bed, gasping, staring blindly into darkness, grasping the sides of the bed and crying out in fear.

She'd had many bad dreams during her lifetime. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd been plagued with terrifying visions - mostly about the day her mother had vanished.

_The two of them - Dante and her mother Evelyn - had been out riding together in the woods near their home. Dante had recently discovered a beautiful meadow on one of her adventures with her friends Grifflet, the farmer's son and Dinedan, the son of one of her father's most noble and honourable knights. They often played together, and went on mini adventures around the land that her father ruled over, never once believing that they were ever in any danger. _

_ One day they'd stumbled across the meadow and Dante was eager to show her mother the pretty flowers. Being only five years old at the time, it had been a perfectly innocent desire - a daughter wanting to spend some quality time with her mother - but it had led to tragedy when they'd stumbled across a bandit camp that had not been there the previous day when the children had discovered the meadow. Even as the bandits gave chase, some on horses, but most on foot, Evelyn had told her daughter to flee for home. She'd promised that she would be right behind, and that no matter what, Dante should keep going, and not look back._

_ Clinging desperately to the saddle, just trying to stay on, Dante had prayed that her horse would know the way - and good old dependable Daffodil hadn't let her down (Yes, Daffodil was her horse's name. But she was five, so the name hadn't seemed so bad to her at the time. Besides, the patient mare was a golden colour anyway, so it was an ironically fitting name.)_

But that was the last Dante had ever seen of her mother. She'd dreamt of that moment for virtually every night over the next twenty one years, blaming herself for her mother's disappearance. These days she'd become so familiar with the dream that it was now just an annoyance, rather than a guilt trip, and she'd wake up feeling none the worse, having given up grieving and blaming herself, a long time ago.

But since that fateful day in Ealdor, she'd been haunted by a new nightmare - the memory of a flash of silver, the incredible pain as a blade sank home, the terrible calm she'd felt as she faced her death with certainty. And each time she relived that moment in her dreams, it grew worse. The memory remained the same - the exact events of what had happened replayed perfectly, in incredible detail - but somehow the knowledge of what was going to happen before it ever did was what made it worse. She'd see the flash of silver in her dreams, know what was to come next, but still be just as helpless to stop it now, as she had when it had truly happened.

And tonight's dream was single-handedly the worst dream she had ever known, because unlike the other dreams, tonight it WAS different.

There had been something different about the dagger. It wasn't the familiar enchanted silver of Lot's dagger...but rather the black polished dragon bone of her mother's gifted blade...her mind probably drawing from the information she'd absorbed from the dragon book earlier in the evening.

But it had shaken her deeply, regardless.

Her hand found unfamiliar coils of sweat-damp silken sheets around her waist, and a silken night robe clinging to her clammy skin.

It took her the better part of ten seconds to work out where she was. Her vision was all blurred and she blinked a few times, waiting for it to clear. In the moonlight streaming in through one window, she could just about make out the familiar shapes of her bedchambers.

Sitting up slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, then buried her head in her hands, sobbing quietly.

The tears that ran between her fingers then were tears of grief, anger and if she was being brutally honest - fear as well.

Because she'd heard by now about Gwaine and Arthur's argument over her fate. She'd heard how Arthur had insisted that she was a lost cause, without even considering the idea of magic to save her. If Arthur was so ready to give her up like that, would he even hesitate to hold back the executioner if he ever found out what she was up to and who she was in league with? Perhaps he'd even be the one to swing the axe or light the fire himself?

_At least my father would be honoured by that _she thought to herself bitterly. Her father, Lord Ector, had always preached that the man who passed the judgement should be the man to carry out the sentence.

And even if Arthur did not find out about her misdeeds, what if Lot came back to finish the job? She still could not fathom what she had done to earn his hatred. Perhaps she hadn't done anything? Perhaps he was just a cruel, heartless monster who took pleasure from seeing other people suffer?

And then there was Morgana to consider as well. Dante had failed her. She'd failed to ensure Arthur was captured, and even though she'd kept to her word and sent him to Fyrien anyway, it was several days later. Would Morgana's men still be there waiting with an ambush, or had Morgana given her up for dead as well and already set about replacing her? She needed to know where she stood, regarding the witch, but until she was able to leave the city unaided, this would be impossible.

Taking several deep, shuddering breaths and then composing herself enough that the tears were no longer falling thick and fast, she disentangled herself from the sheets and got up, crossing the room in silence so thick that you could hear a pin drop.

Her head pounded furiously, the veins in her temple throbbed painfully and her whole body screamed in protest with every tiny movement, but she ignored that for the moment, just needing to get out of the stuffy bedroom and into the fresh air - not even bothering with a cloak or boots in her haste.

Out into the corridor, along and up another long curving sweep of stairs that led up to the parapets.

Her weakened legs struggled to hold her up as she staggered up and out onto the balcony, before eventually giving way altogether, and causing her to lean on the night-chilled rail, just to keep herself upright. After a few moments to collect herself, Dante stared out upon the endless nightscape of Camelot, and as she did, she became suddenly aware of her breath. She sounded like she'd been running.

Holding her throbbing head and feeling the mixture of sweat and tears on her cheeks, she took several shuddering breaths, trying to calm her wild nerves and piece together everything that was going on.

Off in the distance, a waterfall rumbled softly, and the light of the moon danced across the calm waters of a nearby lake, reflecting the distant mountains in all their bluish purple glory.

Very slowly, one hand moved from her head, down to the scar on her chest, where she kept it for quite some time, feeling the beating of her heart beneath and noting (and not for the first time either) how close it had come to stopping altogether.

Eventually she sighed and watched as the first few rays of the morning's sun began to glimmer and slowly appear on the horizon. She'd rather look at the rising sun, than think about why she was out here in the first place.

...

Guinevere moved more quietly than the light breeze, but Dante felt her approach.

The young woman took a place beside her at the railing and laid a soft hand over Dante's trembling one - the one that was no longer clutching her head, but now resting on the chill rail instead. And the Queen simply stood with her, staring silently across the Kingdom that was their home. She was waiting. Waiting patiently for Dante to tell her what was wrong. Trusting that she would.

Dante could feel her patience, and her trust, and she was so grateful for both that tears welled once more. She had to blink out the stinging chill of the night, and blink again, to keep those fresh tears from spilling over onto her cheeks. She simply held Guinevere's hand gently until she could finally let herself speak.

"I...had a dream."

Guinevere accepted this with a slow, serious nod - knowing all about the effects dreams could have on a person (thanks to her time as Morgana's maid). "Bad?"

"It was...like the dreams I used to have." She couldn't look at her friend. "About my mother."

Again, a nod, but even slower, and more serious. Guinevere was one of the very few who knew about Dante's recurring nightmares, so Dante didn't need to go into too much detail for her to understand. "And?"

"And...this time it was about...that day in Ealdor."

Guinevere looked to her for a few seconds longer, then turned aside, leaning once more upon the railings, staring out into the night - and in the slowly pulsing rose glow of the distant sunrise, she was a more comforting sight and presence than she'd ever been to Dante before. Dante was glad, then, that Guinevere was there with her.

"Alright," she nodded after what seemed like careful consideration. "You relived the moment Lot stabbed you."

Then she simply waited, still trusting.

When Dante could finally make herself tell her friend, her voice was raw and hoarse as though she'd been shouting all day. "This time, it wasn't Lot's dagger that...that..." she couldn't bring herself to say the word, but Gwen nodded in understanding anyway, so she carried on. "It was my mother's dagger. Dragon bone...It was unique. I'd know it anywhere. In my dream, I was attacked with my own mother's dagger and I..."

She looked away...at the courtyard below...the woods in the distance...the mountains beyond that...the stars and the moon...and she found no place she could bear to see. All she could do was close her eyes.

"I'm scared that it may mean something more. What if it wasn't just a dream?"

"Oh."

That was all.

Dante couldn't help it then, and looked to Guinevere, both curiously and also slightly angry. Did she not care? Had she no concerns for her friend?

But what she saw when she eventually looked closer was a look that mirrored the way she was feeling at that exact moment.

"You think it's a sign of things to come?" The Queen asked eventually, and Dante couldn't help but nod, hanging her head slightly, and letting out a long, slow breath, trying to control her racing heart and nauseating emotions.

For a long time they stood in silence, neither really knowing what to say at first. But then, drawing from her experience back when Morgana had also been in this situation, Gwen finally spoke once more.

"It was just a dream, nothing more. Don't trouble yourself over it. You need rest."

When it appeared that Dante would not speak, she turned to move back inside, pausing in the doorway. "Dante?"

"I'll be in soon," Dante nodded, not moving from her spot, still leaning on the railings. Gwen knew then that she'd be alright, and left her to it.

...

She held her head in her hands and waited for the nausea to subside, before looking up once more to see a long string of knights clad in scarlet capes trotting down the road towards the main city gates.

At the front was Arthur, his helmet covering his features so she could not read his expression. Behind him were only half the number of men he'd set out with and no sign of the villagers from Ealdor. She felt fresh tears brimming once more as she realised what it must mean.

She'd sent them to their dooms, and although Arthur and these few had survived, the others had not been so lucky. Merlin was not with him, either.

"Oh no," she gasped, pushing herself away from the railings and starting for the stairs to take her down to the King and his returning company.

...

Arthur had not been expecting any kind of welcome from his Kingdom as he'd returned, considering how early in the morning it was. Everybody in their right minds would be in bed, which was exactly where he wanted to be right now, after the long journey he'd just been on.

Thoughts of his nice warm bed urged him on as the group clattered noisily into the yard and sleepy stable boys and squires stumbled out to greet them. Arthur figured the boys must have been sleeping in the stalls of their empty charges, waiting for their return, and those whose horses did not return tried to hide their grief behind forced smiles and greetings to the knights and horses who had returned.

Arthur did not see their grief - too tired was he as he slid from his own horse and handed the reins to a young squire called Matthew. Without a word to anyone, he began to ascend the steps, heading for his chambers and the comfy bed that was shouting out to him, when a young woman came hurrying towards him from the very top of the steps he was now ascending.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry!" Date gasped as she stumbled and fell into his arms. Shocked into silence momentarily, he set her back on her feet- only now noting that they were bare, then he removed his cloak and draped it round her shoulders, leading her back inside away from the prying eyes of the other knights.

"Dante, what's going on?" he asked.

"You...your men...there's only half as many..." she started, trembling violently even though she had his cloak wrapped round her.

It took him a moment to realise what she was getting at, but then he laughed. "It's alright, Milady," he assured her, taking her shoulders and gently steering her back towards her own bedchambers as he walked beside her. "The trip was a success, and I lost no men."

"But...but there's only half..." she started, confused. Again he laughed.

"The other half are in Ealdor with the villagers," he assured her. "Merlin's there too. Everyone is safe and well, thanks to you."

"Oh." Now she sounded both confused and relieved.

"When we got to Fyrien, there was hardly anyone about. I don't think they expected us. It was relatively easy to break in, free the slaves and escape again, and we had a rather uneventful journey back to Ealdor. The villagers are more than capable of taking care of themselves these days, and Lot's attack was only successful the first time around because they were not expecting it. Now they are, and once the knights who stayed with them have ensured that they will be better prepared from now on, they will return to Camelot as well," Arthur explained. Dante nodded, processing it all in her mind, a slow smile spreading as she realised that in fact she had not sent them to their dooms after all.

"That's more like it," Arthur beamed when he saw her smile finally. And then, brushing the last tear from the corner of her eye with his gloved finger, he studied her for a moment. "You are upset?"

"It was just a dream," she replied, glancing away. Arthur reached out very tentatively and his hand hovered for a moment above the scar on her chest, before he realised how close to her breast his hand would be and quickly changed his mind, placing his hand on her shoulder instead.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, concerned.

"No...and yes..." she admitted. She wasn't in physical pain, as such - whatever magic had been cast on her had left her to deal with all the after-effects of being stabbed, minus the pain. But her mind was raw from all the plotting and treason and terrible thoughts and dreams that now plagued her. Yet how could she ever tell Arthur that? And then there was Gwaine, of course.

She was worried about him, and what he'd done in her name. THIS she could tell Arthur, and she did.

He patted her shoulder again as finally they reached her chambers. "Don't worry about Gwaine," he assured her. "He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

"Yes but you don't understand, Arthur. If anything were to happen to him...I don't know what I'd...well, I don't know..."

"It's alright to be scared," he told her once again.

"You've said that before."

"Yes, and did you let your fear stop you then?"

She placed a hand over her scar. "Perhaps I should have."

Arthur paused, overcome by another wave of guilt. Finally he sighed, and nodded. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I made you join us in the village. You were right all along. It was no place for you, and I was stupid to do what I did."

"No, I am the stupid one, for insisting on joining you in the first place," she retorted with a shake of her head.

"It was brave."

"It was foolish."

"So was Gwaine's impulsive action to defy me," Arthur replied carefully. Feeling Dante's eyes rise to meet his once more, he stood his ground and refused to look away, as he continued. "And still, despite that, I can understand both your reasons for doing what you did. And I admire you both for your courage and your bravery. That's why I can safely promise you now, Dante, that Gwaine will not be punished for his actions."

This was a great surprise to Dante, who blinked, rendered mute momentarily. "But I thought - " she started finally. Arthur shook his head to silence her.

"I had plenty of time to think while I was away," he told her. "And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that if I had been in Gwaine's situation, I would have done exactly the same thing. How can I punish another man for doing as I would have done? My father always taught me to lead by example, so how can I punish the man that follows that example?"

As he opened the door to allow her into her room finally, he sighed. "No doubt you've heard what was said in that meeting?" He asked quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

Dante nodded. "You were willing to give up on me." She said it more forcefully that she meant to, but perhaps this was best, because it made Arthur cringe.

"Yes and I was wrong to do that. You have become a very good friend to me, Dante, and friends do not give up on one another. Again, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Kings do not apologise," Dante told him with a smile. "So to hear an apology from one is worth more than you can imagine."

This made Arthur smile as well, and as she slipped into her room, bidding him goodnight - or at least what was left of the night - she saw the look of relief on his fair features.

As soon as the door was closed, however, and she turned to lean against it, her smile vanished.

"You gave me up for dead, Arthur Pendragon," she muttered quietly into the empty room. "Don't think I will forget that in a hurry!"


	19. Winter in Camelot

**Author Note: Hehe, I'm mean :P...Just can't resist leaving little cliff hangers like that last one. And as for what Dante said about Arthur...well, I'm not going to say anything because then I'd give everything away, but put it this way. It is possible to like (or even love) someone and hate them at the same time. And that is what Dante and Arthur have right now. A love/hate relationship. Only time will tell which way the relationship will go, however, so you'll have to wait and see mwahahah.**

**So as always, enjoy, and don't forget to keep those reviews coming :) xx**

**...**

Winter had well and truly set in across the kingdom and despite taking less than half the time a normal person would take to recover from such wounds, it had still taken Dante two weeks to become fit enough to be up and about without hindrance once more. She'd been to see Gaius only that morning in fact, to be declared 'healed and healthy' by the physician, who'd also told her that had Gwaine not resorted to magic, she'd not be standing there today. Anyone lucky enough to even survive such a wound would then have taken the best part of the next two years to recover, let alone the next two weeks. He also advised Dante to still take things easy, because there was no knowing if the magic would wear off at any point.

Dante had promised the old man she'd be careful, and she meant to keep that promise...sort of.

But when Morgana sent her a secret message, disguised as a love note from an 'admiring knight' called 'Sir Gromana' she could not disobey and knew that she must answer the call of her mistress. Still, she decided it would probably not be wise to take a horse this time, in case she truly was not up to the task of riding again just yet. After all, how would she explain to Gaius how she'd ripped the scar open, without raising his suspicions? As a Lady of Camelot, she was supposed to do little more these days that sit in on official meetings, advise Gwen on what fashion to style on each particular day, turn up at banquets and feasts and just generally look important. Nothing too strenuous. So ripping her chest open would require something physically challenging, like riding a horse - or in her case, falling from said horse. And nobody in their right mind would even dare to ride a horse in this weather anyway. She would have no feasible excuse and the old physician would know that something was going on.

No, she needed to be very careful, and not push herself too much. So riding was out of the question. But walking was not. It wasn't far to Morgana's hut. She could walk there, stay a few hours, then walk back again and still be tucked up in her warm bed again well before sunrise.

So that was exactly what she decided to do. She waited until night fell and the entire castle was asleep, then she slipped out into the bitter snow covered winter wonderland, pulling her fur lined hood up against the blizzard that was awaiting her outside the warmth and comfort of the castle walls.

Setting out confidently, she had no need, for once, to fear that anyone would be following her. After all, not only was the blizzard covering her tracks almost as soon as her foot was lifted off the ground, but only a fool would be out in this weather in the first place. And yes, Dante would be the first to admit that she was indeed a fool.

But even so, Morgana had called. And like a good little servant, Dante would answer.

However, half an hour later, she was regretting this particular decision, because the going had become harsh and bitter underfoot, the increasing snow making it difficult to travel at any sort of fast pace. Her feet, even wrapped in several pairs of socks and tucked inside thick leather boots, were numb from the cold and heavy as lead, her gloved hands, wrapped about her beneath her thick cloak, felt like blocks of ice, her eyes had started to water from the chill wind that had picked up and the tears had literally frozen onto her cheeks. She was also shivering so violently that she was amazed the entire kingdom could not hear her teeth clashing together.

The blizzard also made visibility a near impossible task, and she hoped and prayed that she was even travelling in the right direction at all. Finally she stopped and looked all about, wrapping her cloak even tighter around herself and trembling violently. She glanced back at the castle in the distance and was seriously debating whether to turn round right there and then, when a black wolf emerged from the snow, some way ahead, and stared at her with its eerie green eyes. Dante knew immediately that this was no ordinary wolf. It was a creature of magic - the fact that it did not leave footprints in the snow, and its breathing did not elicit clouds of steam being the most obvious indicators of this.

But despite everything, she was not scared. Instead she stared back at the wolf with a sense of awe. Only a very powerful wielder of magic could conjure such an impressive and magnificent creature, and Dante knew of only one person around these parts with such magic.

The wolf looked pointedly at her, then turned and walked away a few paces, before glancing back again. Dante nodded, put her head down and followed, recognizing that the magical creature wanted her to follow it. Perhaps Morgana had somehow known that the snow would make navigation impossible, and sent the creature to help her acolyte. Or perhaps it was just a figment of Dante's imagination and the wolf was not even real.

Whatever the explanation, when Dante finally came across Morgana's hut and the wolf vanished into thin air, she breathed a huge sigh of relief, puffing out a great cloud of steam in the process. Then, reaching out a violently shaking hand, she wrapped on the door as hard as she was able, given the numbness in her fingers, and waited.

After a moment, the door slowly creaked open and she stepped inside, throwing back her hood and shaking the snow from her drenched hair. The hood may have sheltered her from the worst of the blizzard, but it had done little to prevent the melting snow from soaking through the material and fur and inevitably soaking her as well. She was well aware of what a state she must look right then, as she dropped to one knee, freezing cold, shivering violently, covered in melting snow and barely able to get her voice going.

"M...m...my la...lady..." she rasped, forcing herself to be extremely careful that she did not accidentally bite her tongue or cause herself similar damage in the process, considering she could barely feel her face now, either.

The relative warmth of Morgana's hut had yet to actually touch her, even though there was a roaring fire in the open pit in the centre of the room and thick drapes over the windows to block out the worst of the drafts.

"Rise," Morgana spoke from her chair beside the fire, and her tone was surprisingly gentle and sympathetic as she moved a second chair out with her magic, motioning for Dante to join her.

Dante sank into the chair, her muscles screaming in protest after the marathon trek which had taken much longer than she'd at first assumed, and it took her several moments to actually do anything other than shiver and hug herself. Slowly, however, the warmth of the fire began to bleed through the ice cold that she felt all over - though not quickly enough for her liking.

Morgana sat and watched her acolyte struggling to even breath through the tremors. Eventually she rose, taking a blanket from the end of her bed and removing Dante's soaked cloak, she replaced it with the much warmer and drier blanket, wrapping it round Dante's shoulders. She tossed the cloak to one side, intending to deal with it later.

Dante wanted to speak, to thank the witch, but she couldn't. Morgana merely smiled in understanding, then moved back to the fire, gathering a few items on the way. Dante watched curiously as her mistress began to brew something in a small metal pan. When the liquid, which smelled strongly of sugar and honey, came to the boil, Morgana spooned some of it very carefully into a goblet.

Before giving it to Dante, however, she held a hand over it and muttered an inaudible incantation - her glowing eyes the only indication that she'd even done anything. Then she handed the goblet to her acolyte.

"Drink," she instructed kindly, patting Dante's trembling shoulder as the young woman tried to hold the cup. But her fingers were numb and she couldn't stop shaking, so the cup went crashing to the floor, long before she'd raised it even halfway to her lips. She looked at Morgana, horrified, but Morgana only smiled again in sympathy, spooned some more of the brew into the goblet again and repeated the enchantment. Dante felt like a helpless child, but there was nothing she could do. A quick glance down at her hands as she tried to pull off the freezing leather gloves sent a chill down her spine, and not because of the cold for once. Well, partly...

Because beneath the leather, her hands were blue! Literally blue!

Dante had known cold in her time, but never like this.

Morgana placed her own hand over Dante's as she crouched in front of the chair. Then she held up the goblet for Dante to see. "You're slowly freezing to death," she explained in a very calm manner - the way a mother would explain something to their sick child. "You need to warm up again. This will help."

"S...s...sorry, I d...dropped it..." Dante stuttered, but Morgana shook her head.

"No apology necessary. Now drink this. You'll feel much better."

She held the goblet gently to Dante's lips, and Dante took a few measured sips. The liquid burned her throat and her dry, rasping cough made Morgana laugh, even as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. When she was able, however, Dante laughed with her, the enchanted brew already working wonders to heat her from the inside, out. Slowly, she could feel a tingling in her fingers and toes, as sensation finally began to filter back, through the cold.

"Better?" Morgana asked after a moment, sitting back in her own chair.

"Much. My thanks, Mistress," Dante agreed, nodding in earnest. As she continued to sip at the weird sweetened substance in the goblet, wondering what exactly it ACTUALLY was, Morgana studied her curiously.

"What have I done to deserve such loyalty from you, Lady Dante?" she asked eventually, sitting up in her chair a little.

Dante paused for a moment, took one more sip of the liquid, then sat up a little straighter herself, doing her best to fix her frozen face into a look of confusion as the droplets on her cheeks finally melted and dripped down into her collar. "How do you mean, My lady?"

"Well, I ask you to jump, you ask how high," Morgana replied matter-of-factly. "I say that one of my plans may very well kill you, you are not phased. I tell you that walking into that village with Arthur and the knights will be the death of you and again, you do not hesitate. I ask you to brave the worst storm Camelot has ever known, just two weeks after you were stabbed, and again, you do so without question. Anyone else would have made excuses."

"But I am not anyone else," Dante replied, her voice coming more naturally now as she slowly warmed beside the fire.

"And that is why I ask. What have I done to deserve your loyalty?"

For a long time it appeared that Dante would not answer, but eventually she sighed and set the now empty goblet on a nearby table. "You saved my life."

"I've saved a lot of people's lives, believe it or not," Morgana replied with a wry smile, obviously intending this to be some kind of joke. But Dante could very much believe it to be the truth and found no humour in the statement.

"Yet none of them," Morgana continued, sitting forward again now as she studied Dante, "have ever shown such loyalty to me in return, save only for my sister. Morgause and I shared a bond of love...of blood. You and I share no such bond. So there must be more to it."

Dante sighed again, squinting her eyes shut for a brief moment against the sudden headache that had decided to very conveniently attack. Then she looked back to Morgana, who was still waiting, expecting an answer.

"It is hard to explain, exactly," she said at last. "I guess...you could say, you are the only one who's ever truly seen me for who I really am. Everyone always just sees me as a stuck up noble, or a rich kid, or a fancy trinket they can display on their arm. Even though it was all a trick, Lot saw me as nothing but a slave, and he treated me as such too."

Morgana laughed slightly at the bitterness in Dante's tone then. "You're never going to let that go, are you."

"The man's a pig, My Lady. He needs bringing down a peg or two."

"And in time he shall be. I have not forgotten that he almost stole you from me, and mark my words, he will pay with his life. But let's not make this about him. You were saying, before that...?"

"You are the only one who's ever seen me for who I am, and not who I'm pretending to be. Even here in Camelot, Arthur and Guinevere see me as an ally, nothing more. Arthur didn't hesitate to declare that I should be allowed to die, after I was stabbed, and even though he believes I have forgiven him...I haven't. And then there's the others. I get the feeling Merlin is suspicious - and rightly so - whilst Gaius thinks I'm just a spoilt little rich girl who cannot handle herself in the big wide world and needs to hold someone's hand constantly. Even the other knights see me as a silly little girl, too out of her depth, and struggling to stay afloat. Gwaine, perhaps, is the exception. But even then I wonder if he sees me as anything more than a prize to be won, or just a pretty face...Does he really know the true me?"

Morgana sat quietly as Dante spoke, listening intently, a small frown beginning to crease her brow as Dante's words sunk in.

"You are frustrated that you must hide your true self from the world," she said eventually, nodding in understanding. She could relate to that feeling very well, after all - having been there once herself. Now, however, she was free to just be herself and not have to hide her magic and her abilities.

Dante sighed and nodded. "I just want to be myself," she said quietly as she shivered again and wrapped the blanket tighter about herself. "And with you, I can be. But back there..."

"I know," Morgana nodded gently, standing and patting Dante's shoulder again as she moved to the fire and muttered a spell to make the dying flames leap higher again, casting the dark room in a strangely comforting orange glow of warmth.

"It is good to see you up and about again. I was worried about you."

"Thank you for your concern, Mistress," Dante replied, truly touched. Morgana must care for her a great deal more than she'd ever imagined, and this surprised her. "I am already feeling much better. Though that tonic of yours has also helped greatly"

"What good is magic if you cannot use it," Morgana shrugged, turning away.

There was a moment of silence then, as she hung Dante's dripping cloak from a line that hung near one of the windows. Dante reached out to the fire then to warm her hands, glad that finally they were beginning to return to their natural colour once more. And then a thought struck her.

"With all due respect, My Lady...why did you call me here tonight?"

Morgana paused and thought for a moment, then shrugged. "To be honest, I wasn't even sure you'd come, given the storm."

Dante wanted to reply to this comment, but a sudden yawn caught her off guard. Morgana chuckled - a humorous little laugh that was so uncharacteristic of her these days. And that one sound warmed Dante more than any fire or magical brew ever could.

"You should get some rest," the witch told her eventually. "Everything else can wait. It's not urgent."

"But...what if someone notices I'm missing?" Dante suddenly cried, realising that she'd perhaps overstayed her welcome. "How will I explain my absence?"

"Don't worry about a thing," Morgana soothed, taking the empty goblet and refilling it with the last of the brew from the pot, then pressing the goblet back into Dante's hands again. "I promise you will be back in Camelot long before anyone even notices you are missing. Now just sit back and rest for a while. The last thing you need is to aggravate that wound again."

Dante winced as the pain of each and every injury she'd acquired over the past month finally decided to make their presence known once more, sending a fireball of pain shooting through her entire body, starting at her head and not stopping until it had reached the tips of her toes. All the time she'd been frozen, she'd not felt any pain at all, and it had been something of a relief. Now that she was warming up, however, the pain was returning with a vengeance, and she didn't know what was worse. The only part of her that did not hurt, ironically, was the stab wound to her chest. But then, whatever magic Gwaine had employed must have done its job well, and for that she was grateful. Shame it hadn't been able to heal some of her other scrapes and bruises.

Gritting her teeth for a moment and squeezing her eyes shut until the fresh wave of pain had passed, she drank the rest of the contents of the cup in her hand silently and watched Morgana potter around the hovel, doing things. What she was doing, Dante wasn't sure. And neither did she care. Because very slowly, her eyelids were growing heavier and she could feel her whole body relaxing. Not having the energy left to fight it, she eventually let the exhaustion claim her tired body, and slid into a deep and peaceful sleep.

The soft clattering of an empty cup falling to the floor alerted Morgana and she spun on the spot, fearing something had happened. When she saw that Dante had fallen asleep, however, and the cup must have fallen from her hand, she relaxed and sighed, picking up the cup and setting it back on the table.

Then she took another blanket from a cupboard in the far corner and draped it over Dante's unconscious form. She looked so peaceful as she slept - so innocent and naive - that whatever bitterness Morgana felt towards the world in general melted away as she watched the young woman. She'd never felt this way about anyone else other than Morgause and Mordred and - back in the old days, Arthur too. It was a sense - a desire, even - to protect. To care for, and look after.

She wanted to look after Dante like a mother would care for a daughter, or two sisters would care for one another...perhaps, given Dante's age, the latter would be the more appropriate description, but the feeling was the same, no matter what.

And seeing Dante so helpless - so vulnerable...it had touched something deep within Morgana. Stirrings of her old self began to filter through the anger and the bitterness...the old Morgana, who had been kind and compassionate and caring.

Shaking her head and telling herself that she was just imagining things, she set about drying Dante's cloak and brewing some more of the sweet tonic for Dante to take back with her. Then she paused as the door to her hovel opened again and a cloaked man stepped through, having to bend his head slightly to fit through the door.

"You're not welcome here," she told him curtly as Lot removed his cloak and moved to the fire to warm his own gloved hands.

"As charming as ever," he replied, believing for the moment at least that Morgana must have forgiven him, seeing as she had not made another move against him in the past week. His wounds were still raw and painful, and he limped heavily, but otherwise he was back to his usual arrogant self.

Glancing into the chair by the fire, he paused, stunned. "She's alive?"

"No thanks to you," Morgana growled.

"How many times must I tell you, it was a mistake. You were not clear enough in your intentions concerning her."

"Then let me make them clear to you now," Morgana hissed, thrusting her hand out and throwing him back against the far wall of the hovel. "Even so much as touch one single hair on her head and so help me Lot, I will kill you where you stand."

As he dragged himself painfully back to his feet again, blood dribbling down the back of his neck, she crossed her arms and glared fiercely at him. "Is THAT clear enough for you?"

"What's going on, Milady?" Dante asked sleepily, having been woken by Lot's loud collision with the wall. And then she saw Lot and leapt to her feet, fists clenched angrily as she searched all about for some sort of weapon.

Lot, despite his pain, barked an amused laugh, even as he drew his own sword. "Go ahead little one, give me an excuse to end your miserable life."

"Was I still not clear enough?" Morgana snapped, stepping between the pair of them.

"Oh you were crystal clear," Lot nodded, advancing on the two women. "I just chose not to believe you."

"Then believe this," Morgana once again threw out her hand to send him flying backwards, but this time he was prepared and swiped at her extended hand with his sword. It was only Dante's quick thinking as she dragged Morgana backwards that kept the witch's hand attached to her arm.

Then she reached for the white hot iron that was resting in the fire and held it as if she were wielding a sword, now placing herself between Lot and Morgana. When his sword came down, she blocked it with a shower of sparks that he had not been expecting.

"ENOUGH!" Morgana roared, knocking both weapons from their hands with another wordless incantation. "NOW SIT!"

Two chairs were brought forwards suddenly, crashing into both Lot and Dante's knees from behind and causing their legs to buckle as they both collapsed into the chairs.

"Here's how it's going to work," Morgana said then as she began to pace before the two chairs - set far enough apart that neither occupant could reach the other. Though this didn't stop them from glaring at each other with looks of utter contempt and hate.

"Dante will return to Camelot UNHARMED and continue her role inside the castle walls. Lot, you will return to Essetir and find out all you can about these invaders. I want to know who they are. I want to know their numbers, and I want to know their intentions."

"Invaders?" Dante asked, momentarily distracted from her glaring as she looked back to Morgana again.

"Nothing to worry yourself about yet," Morgana sighed. "Some ships have been sighted off the East Coast, and there's rumours beginning to fly. I want to know what we're dealing with before we start to jump to conclusions and worry ourselves."

_She's sounding like a Queen_, Dante thought to herself, smiling inwardly, even as she frowned in concern. "Should I tell Arthur? I hate the guy, but he has a right to know..."

"And how would you explain how you came by this information?" Lot snapped. "Think, you stupid girl."

Dante launched sideways out of her chair, intending to wring his neck with her bare hands, when Morgana caught her shoulder and pushed her back, away from him. She sank back down into her chair once more, with a petulant frown similar to that of a child who wanted nothing more than to beat seven bells out of the sneaky git beside her, who was getting her into trouble.

"Lot's right," Morgana told her, playing the role of mother in this particular argument. "You are supposed to be in bed, back at Camelot. How would you explain how you came by this information?"

"I...I can't just sit back and do nothing, though," Dante protested, seeing her point.

"And we may just be jumping at shadows," Morgana explained. "Until we know what the danger is, we have no need to worry."

"So go back to playing Princess with your Pendragon King, like a good little girl, and let us grown-ups do all the work," Lot sneered, once again causing Dante to try and throw herself at him.

"No, Dante," Morgana told her forcefully, once again holding her back.

"At least let me rearrange his face a little, please? He's ugly enough that no-one would notice!" Dante protested, as Lot laughed behind Morgana's back.

"And have you ruin those knuckles? How would you explain THAT to Arthur, as well?" Morgana reminded her. "Think about this Dante. You need to be very careful about your actions, and the consequences of them. Remember that pendant I gave you?"

"The water droplets symbolising my actions," Dante nodded, pulling said pendant from where it had been tucked safely out of view beneath the folds of her clothing.

"Exactly. Now, go back to Camelot and act as if nothing has happened. I will inform you again when we have information."

Taking this as her cue to leave, Dante rose with a sigh and took her now dry cloak from the back of the chair where Morgana had left it. Then, as she passed Lot, she kicked out with all her might, catching him on the shin with a hefty boot. He howled in pain, clutching his leg as Morgana tried to hide her smirk.

"Oops, sorry," Dante said to the King, not sounding sorry at all.

And then she was gone, back into the white wilderness, with Morgana's flask of warming tonic tucked into one of the inner pockets of the cloak.

"Are you going to let her get away with that?" she heard Lot roar as she pulled the door closed behind her. Lingering to hear Morgana's reply, she grinned when the witch said, "You deserved it. You did stab her, after all."

Then she started off back for Camelot, her foot beginning to ache now. But it was a good ache. A satisfying one.

Lot deserved more than a boot to the shin, but Morgana was right. She had to be careful now.

...

When she finally reached her bedchambers some time later, dawn was on the horizon and she knew that the castle would be stirring itself soon. Drinking the tonic and stoking the fire to warm herself and her room as much as possible, Dante was about to change out of her clothing into her nightgown when she saw a small folded scrap of paper sitting on her pillow.

Unravelling the scrap, she saw familiar neat writing, written in emerald green ink.

_You are wrong_ _about Sir Gwaine believing you are just a pretty face, or a prize to be won. He has proven himself a most worthy ally to you, was the only one to fight for you when everyone else had given up, and were it not for him, you would be buried in the vaults of your father's estate with your ancestors right now. We both owe him greatly for not giving up on you, so if you still desire, he may now enter your circle. But do not let your personal feelings for him get in the way of our cause. Remember, he may well have saved your life once, but there is no guaranteeing that he will do it a second time, if he knows that you and I are in league, conspiring against his king._

_ Morgana_

Dante smiled in delight as she read the small scrap three more times just to make sure she was not imagining the words in front of her, then screwed it up and burned it in the fire. Things were finally starting to look up, for her.

And this good mood only continued to improve when she was called down to join Arthur and Gwen for breakfast a few hours later.

...

"Dante, glad you could join us," Arthur beamed as she walked through the dining hall door which one of the guards was holding open for her.

"Good morning, Your Majesties," she said formally with a slight bow of her head.

"Don't look so worried," Gwen added from her place to Arthur's right. "We have good news."

"I'm just a little surprised to be summoned like this...that's all," Dante told them both as she took the seat which Merlin very kindly pulled out for her. Then as she made herself comfortable, he poured her a drink of iced milk sweetened with honey, grinning like an idiot.

She watched him curiously as he worked, trying to figure out what he was hiding. Then she looked to the King and Queen. Something was definitely going on, but she honestly didn't have the faintest idea what it could be. This was, after all, the first time she'd been asked to dine with the King and Queen since her arrival in Camelot a few months previously. Usually she ate alone in her room, or with the other Lords and Ladies on their tables at feasts and banquets. Occasionally she'd entertain a guest or two in her chambers, and sometimes she'd invite Kahlee to join her. But never had she been invited to dine alone with the Royalty of Camelot before.

"Might I inquire as to the occasion?" she asked as another servant placed a huge plater of breads, fruits, cold meats and cheeses in front of her. Gwen and Arthur had been served the same sometime earlier, and Arthur was already half way through the contents of his plate, whilst Gwen had nibbled a few crusts of bread and half an apple so far - choosing to take her time over her meal, unlike her husband.

"The men from Ealdor are returning today, and they're bringing a special guest with them," Arthur explained, before he bit into a chicken leg, biting off slightly more than he could chew. Unable to talk with his mouth full, he looked pointedly at Gwen, who took up the explanation on his behalf.

"Merlin's mother Hunith has been elected as spokesperson for the village," the Queen explained, glancing at Merlin as he refilled her cup. He'd returned only that morning himself, and must have arrived back at the castle just after Dante. He'd been the one to inform Arthur of what was going on in the village, and that his mother was returning, so at first Dante assumed this was the reason for his continuous grin, and the bounce in his step as he walked.

"A spokesperson?" she frowned now, finally taking her eyes off Merlin and looking back to Gwen and Arthur - the food on her plate remaining untouched. She still hadn't recovered her appetite completely since the whole ordeal, and could barely force herself to eat anything at the best of times. This was not one of those times.

"The villagers were very grateful to us for their rescue," Arthur said as he was finally able to speak once more. "They thanked my men and I in person, back at the village. But as you and the other knights were not present at the time, they felt it only fair that someone should come to Camelot to thank you in person, also."

He bit a large chunk out of a bread roll and left Gwen to do that talking once more.

"As Hunith has the best 'relationship' with us here in Camelot, she's been chosen to come and give the thanks. She's expected to arrive sometime this morning, so there will be a ceremony this afternoon to honour your service to her people."

"My service?" Dante asked, even more confused now. "But I didn't do anything. Unless getting yourself stabbed by a madman is anything to be proud of?"

"There is no shame in what happened to you," Gwen protested. "Besides, you have done so much more than you probably realise. You've shown everyone that you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand. You say no. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else runs away, or turns a blind eye. And for that, you deserve our gratitude."

"Right," Dante scoffed. "When everyone else runs that way..." she pointed to her left, then turned and motioned to her right with her thumb. "I run that way."

"As Gwen said, that is nothing to be ashamed of," Arthur protested with a shrug. "It shows you have courage."

"I don't have courage," Dante shook her head. "I'll be the first to admit I'm not brave at all."

"Bravery and courage are not the same," Arthur shook his head. "Bravery is being bold and fearless in the face of danger. Courage, on the other hand, is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

Dante sat quietly contemplating this for a moment as Arthur took another bite of his roll, watching her work everything out in her mind. When he was satisfied that, for the moment at least, she could come up with no more protests, he turned to look for Merlin.

"Merlin, the parchment?" He said, doing his best not to spit breadcrumbs everywhere as he spoke. Merlin reached into his jacket then and pulled out a roll of parchment, sealed with Arthur's official seal. He handed it to Dante, who stared at it suspiciously for several seconds as if expecting it to spontaneously combust in her hands, before eventually breaking the seal and unrolling the scroll.

"That's your script," Merlin told her with a grin. "Of what you need to say and when, during the ceremony."

"But...I don't understand," she started to protest, even as she read through what had been written. And then her eyes picked out two words. _First Lady_. Her head snapped back up and she gasped in surprise. Gwen grinned.

"NOW do you understand?" The Queen asked, and Dante could do nothing but nod.

"I...I don't know what to say..." she stuttered.

"Say yes," Arthur shrugged as if the answer were simple, even as he reached across to her plate and helped himself to a few of her grapes. "What's so hard about that?"

"It's a big responsibility, Arthur. Are you sure?"

"I can think of no-one better," the King nodded sincerely. "You've earned it."

"I...I don't know how I..." Dante started again, looking down at the paper. Arthur's face fell as he realised that she must be about to decline his offer. But then she looked back up at him, grinning just as madly as Merlin. "...could possibly refuse."

He wanted to make her Camelot's new First Lady? Morgana had told her this might happen, if things didn't go quite according to plan in Ealdor or Fyrien. Dante may have hated Arthur for his apparent ease at ordering her death so callously, but right at that very moment in time, she found herself loving him instead.

The First Lady had power and control over the kingdom equal to the King's Hand and second only to Arthur himself and Gwen. Arthur had no official Hand as of yet, so without even realising his own foolishness, he was offering her the keys to Camelot on a plate, and actually encouraging her to take them, with only himself and Gwen standing in her way, if it ever came to a duel of the fates, as Morgana had once called their 'cause'.

"It would be an honour," she told him now, embracing this new idea with great enthusiasm.


	20. The Ceremony

**Author Note: Here's another chapter for you all, and now you start to discover some of Dante's other flaws, too. You wouldn't believe it, but it would seem that she doesn't like large crowds and being the centre of attention. Who'd have thought? hehe. And as for the ceremony itself, what Arthur says is a combination of lines the ceremonies used in previous Merlin episodes (Arthur's coming of age, knighting ceremonies, etc). I really wasn't sure what the protocol was for becoming a First Lady, as Morgana is the only First Lady we've met in the series, and she was made one by being Uther's Ward, and therefore the title was given to her by default (or so we assume), so after puzzling over it for a while, I just decided to go ahead and make up my own version of the ceremony, lol. This is what I'd imagine it to be like...and who knows. Maybe in the future, we'll get to see an actual ceremony, if Arthur chooses another First Lady in the series?**

**Anyways, read and enjoy as always :) And thank you for sticking with me this far...**

**oOo**

It had been decided at breakfast that Gwen should be the one to help Dante get ready for the ceremony. She'd had plenty of practice with Morgana over the years, so knew exactly what was required for such an occasion. She also wanted to make sure that Dante's nerves remained in one piece.

After Arthur had gone through the list of duties that the First Lady was expected to uphold, Dante had been bordering on a full blown panic attack as the reality of her situation dawned on her. She was being given control over an entire kingdom and its people! Ok, so she'd been a Lady - heir to her father's estate after her brothers had died - but that was different. Much different. And it had only taken Arthur's careful and precise explanation of her duties to make Dante slip from proud, excited, confident Lady to a nervous, quivering wreck. It had quite literally driven her to the brink of insanity - not that she hadn't been bordering there already, mind you.

Gwen had suggested putting the ceremony on hold until Dante was a hundred percent recovered, but Arthur had insisted that it needed to happen whilst Hunith was here. Otherwise she would have a wasted journey. He then assured Dante that he would explain her sudden and miraculous recovery as being a misdiagnosis on Gaius' part, and the old physician's incredible skills and talents with poultices and potions.

Gaius had been offended by the idea of having the 'blame' of a misdiagnosis laid on him at first, but then Arthur had talked him round, and assured him that the fact he was so 'skilled' and 'talented' would more than make up for this little 'error' of his. Eventually the old physician had agreed to go along with things, for the simplicity and sake of it.

Arthur had then offered Dante the use of Merlin for the morning to help her get ready, but this had only made Dante panic even more, so Gwen had very kindly stepped in and offered her services instead.

Arthur had protested, and Gwen had sent Dante to wait out in the hallway whilst she and her husband quietly argued. Then, half an hour later, she'd emerged from the dining hall, tying her long black hair into a ponytail with the yellow silk ribbon that had adorned her wrist in decoration. She wore a contrastingly businesslike expression, despite her triumph and without saying another word, took Dante by the arm and dragged her up to her room.

She appraised Dante as they reached Dante's outer chambers and she closed and locked the door behind them.

"Oh, look at your eyes!" She tutted in reproach. "What did you do? Stay up all night?"

"Almost," Dante shrugged. "I couldn't sleep." _So I went for a walk in the snow to meet my mistress and find out the next part of our devious plan to overthrow your husband and claim his kingdom for our own. _

Gwen glowered. "I've only got a certain amount of time to make you stunning, Dante! You might have taken better care of my raw material!"

"I didn't exactly expect this when I got up this morning," Dante countered as she sat on the window seat, leaning her head against the cool glass. "I think the bigger problem is that I might fall asleep during the ceremony and not be able to say 'I do' at the right parts. Then Arthur will realise what a terrible mistake he's made by asking me to do this, and he'll choose someone else, and I'll be laughed out of Camelot and never be able to show my face in public again."

"Relax, woman!" Gwen chuckled. "You're babbling. But don't worry! I'll throw my shoe at you when it gets close."

"Wow thanks!" Heavy sarcasm? Had she really degenerated to using heavy sarcasm now? Oh boy. This was going to be a long morning.

"So, things with you and Gwaine...how are they going?" Gwen was trying to distract Dante as she fished about in Dante's wardrobe, and as predicted, it worked like a charm.

"What do you mean 'things with me and Gwaine'?"

"Well are you together, or aren't you? And if you're not, why not?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

"What about the other knights, then? Surely one of them has to have taken your fancy? Elyan tells me that Percival's got a bit of a soft spot for you, and Leon used to until he saw what Gwaine did to Lot. Then he decided to back off because it was too much of a risk."

"They're my friends," Dante countered, although she was flattered that she'd caught the attention of so many handsome young men, and she was also annoyed at Gwaine for scaring them all off. "Nothing more."

"Keep telling yourself that and someday it may come true."

"I'm not looking for a man right now, Gwen! I have more important things to do than fall in love!"

"Seriously Dante, it's about time you got over this aversion to men. It's not healthy for a woman to dislike the attention as much as you do!"

Dante bit back her retort, glared groggily out of the window and let out a long frustrated sigh. Gwen decided to leave her to it for now. Dante's nerves had turned her mood incredibly sour, and Gwen had seen more than her fair share of Dante's temper tantrums to know when it was best to just remain quiet and out of the way. Dante was grateful. It gave her time to brood.

Eventually she must have nodded off, because the next thing she knew, Gwen was shaking her shoulders gently and nodding to the steaming bathtub in the centre of the room. Dante blinked in surprise, sniffed and was immediately assailed by the scent.

"What is THAT?" She couldn't help but wonder, as Gwen pulled the wooden screen across to hide the bath from view - and effectively preserve Dante's dignity in the process.

"Is it too much?" Gwen's voice was abruptly worried. "I'd hoped I'd got it right."

"It smells wonderful!" Dante assured her. The smell was almost intoxicating, but not at all overwhelming – the balance of the different fragrances was subtle and flawless. "Cherry blossoms...lilac...and something else. Am I right?"

"Very good! You only missed the freesia and roses."

Dante sighed again and slipped behind the screen to undress.

Then she lowered herself into the tub, her clothes lying in a tangled heap on the far side of the screen where she'd thrown them half heartedly.

For a few seconds the water was so hot it stung, and she was ready to leap back out again if it didn't drastically improve. But then it became soothing instead of painful, and she was able to tolerate the heat after all.

She cupped some of the water into her palms and smoothed it over her face, smelling the various incense that Gwen had used. They also helped her to relax and soon she could feel the soothing heat working its way through her skin and into her muscles. She let out another sigh then, only this time it was more of a contented one.

Gwen, meanwhile, pottered about on the other side of the screen, getting things ready for when Dante emerged.

After a while, she glanced towards the screen.

"You're awfully quiet back there. You haven't gone to sleep have you?"

"No!" Dante called back, her eyes flying open again. Damn it, she really should have gotten more sleep last night! After a moment, she heard Gwen humming lightly to herself and dared to close her eyes again. Then she slid completely under the water's surface. It closed over her like a dream - like a balm - and the heat worked in toward her bones.

Now she was free for the moment to think on other things, whilst she couldn't be disturbed. And what she really wanted to think about right then was how the hell she'd gotten herself into this mess, and more importantly how the hell she'd get herself out of it again.

After all, there was no backing out now. It was too late. Even if Arthur understood her reasons for backing out and refusing his offer now, Morgana would never forgive her.

She could hear the witch in her mind, even now.

_This is your chance! You've been given an opportunity Lady Dante. Don't waste it! Arthur wants to give you more power? Then damn well let him! Remember who you serve, Lady Dante! Don't fail me!_

She shuddered all over, just thinking about what Morgana may do if she did back out now. Then she decided that it simply was not an option.

Her lungs burned. The heat continued to burrow in through her muscles, soothing and healing. Her pounding head gave one last heave, then subsided, and the aches in her muscles from her trek through the snow last night began to ease.

_I don't know how I'm going to go through with this...large groups are NOT good! Arthur's birthday was bad enough...but this is going to be in front of hundreds, not just those closest to him! I suppose if I have my back to them...but then...all those meetings where I have to sit in front of everyone! All those times people will look to me for guidance!_

_ Guidance? Ha! I can't lead! I can't be a good role model! I'm plotting bloody treason behind Arthur's back! What kind of an example is that? "That's right people, smile at your king as you drive your dagger into his back..."_

The burning in her lungs became suddenly painful and she remembered where she was.

Surfacing in a rushing splash, she shook her head, droplets of water flying everywhere as her hair remained slicked to her face.

"That's why you don't fall asleep in the bath!" Gwen called from the other side of the screen. "Or were you perhaps trying to drown yourself, instead? You can't get out of it that easily, you know!"

Dante couldn't verbally reply. All she could do was blink away the droplets that clung to her eyelashes and inhale, mouth gaping open to take in a deep gulp of air.

White light hit her eyes, scouring through the mishmash inside her head. Eventually, her breathing deepened and evened out, with only a slight hitch at the end of each exhale.

"Everything alright?" Now Gwen sounded alarmed.

"Fine," Dante managed to rasp finally as she rose from the tub, only now discovering that the water had turned lukewarm instead of the soothing heat it had previously held. As she took the towel that Gwen had draped over the screen for her and wrapped it about herself, she shivered violently, though whether this was through the coldness of the air in the room compared to the heat of the tub, or because of her returning anxiety, she could not say.

Drying herself quickly, she pulled on the clothes that Gwen had also draped over the screen for her, only emerging once she was descent.

Gwen took one look at her and folded her arms across her chest, not at all amused.

"Dante, you look like a prune!"

Dante glanced down at her hands, which had wrinkled in the water. She grinned then, despite everything.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea! Maybe we should take this as a sign?"

"And maybe YOU should stop trying to stall the inevitable. It's happening, girl, whether you like it or not. So just enjoy it!" Gwen took her shoulders then, steered her over to the dresser and pushed her down into the low chair.

"I don't know how Morgana put up with you," Dante muttered quietly, so that Gwen wouldn't hear, before leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes, hoping she would be able to nap through the whole thing. She did drift in and out a little bit as Gwen worked, but not as much as she'd have liked.

...

It was after lunchtime when Gwen finally finished her hair and made her stand, so that she could admire her from all angles to make sure everything was perfect. Dante's knees shook so badly that the satin of her pearlescent dress quivered in little wavelets down to the floor.

"Deep breath, Dante," Gwen said. "And try to calm yourself. You're going to sweat off your new face."

Dante gave her the best sarcastic expression she could manage. "I'll get right on that."

"I have to get changed now. Can you hold yourself together for ten minutes?"

"Um...maybe?"

Gwen rolled her eyes and darted from the room, leaving Dante to concentrate on breathing, counting the movements of her lungs, and staring at the patterns that the light of the candles in the nearby wall brackets made on the shiny fabric of her skirt. She was afraid to look in the mirror – afraid that the image of herself would send her over the edge into a full-scale panic attack.

Gwen was back before she'd taken two hundred breaths, in a dress that flowed down her slender body like a silvery waterfall.

"Gwen...wow!"

"It's nothing. No-one will be looking at me today. Not while you're in the room."

"Ha ha."

"Now, are you in control of yourself, or do I have to go and get your boyfriend?"

"Gwaine's not my boyfriend!"

"No...but it worked," Gwen grinned, and Dante realised that once again, she'd played her distraction and it had worked. She forced a helpless laugh then and shook her head as there was a loud knock at the door.

Merlin peered in.

"Are you almost ready?"

When he saw Dante standing in the middle of the room in the beautiful pearlescent gown of Morgana's, her hair twisted and braided up intricately at the back of her head with little crystal beads woven throughout, the slightest hint of make-up to highlight her soft, gentle features and her hands clasped in front of her to keep them from trembling, he beamed. "Wow...you look...AMAZING!"

A hysterical giggle burst through Dante's lips then she begin to hyperventilate. Gwen glared at Merlin.

"Well thank you. I'd just got her to calm down!"

"Sorry," Merlin winced.

"So, are you escorting her then?"

"No. Leon is. He's Arthur's right hand man, apparently, in all but title, so Arthur said it should be him escorting her."

"Right, and where is Leon?"

"Here, Milady," Leon said as he pushed politely past Merlin and stepped up to Dante. He smiled pleasantly as he stepped up to her and discovered that the scent of roses and cherry blossom and freesia enveloped her in a soft mist.

He was dressed in fresh chainmail that sparkled in the light, and his cloak was not the usual rough scarlet material made to withstand all weathers. Instead, now it was a soft silk that rustled and shimmered just as much as Dante's dress. His hair had been neatly combed and his beard trimmed. As he extended an arm to her, Dante began to hyperventilate again.

"Easy, Milady," He said softly. Then he turned to Gwen nervously. "She looks a little sick, Majesty. Do you think she's going to make it?"

His voice sounded far away. She couldn't feel her legs.

"She'd better."

Gwen was in front of her again, on her tiptoes to better stare her in the eye. She gripped her wrists in firm hands. "Focus, Dante. You can do this. Do it for Gwaine, if no-one else."

Dante took a deep breath, willing herself into composure.

"Dante?" Gwen asked, still holding her gaze.

"Yes," she squeaked finally. "Gwaine. Ok." She let Gwen pull her from the room, with Leon tagging along at her elbow. They descended the grand staircase and moved towards the huge set of intricately carved oak doors. They stopped to the left of the doorway and could hear several voices chattering excitedly from within. Arthur stepped out from the shadows of a pillar then, and Dante gasped, her heart climbing into her throat.

"Is she alright?" he asked Gwen anxiously as his wife looped her arm through his.

"She will be," Gwen assured him. Then she glanced back to Dante. "It's our turn. When Arthur's announced you, just relax! Everything will be fine."

As the wooden doors opened to allow the royals into the hall, a sudden fanfare trilled. Dante jumped again, and Leon placed his free hand on her arm.

"Relax," he told her gently. "Everything will be fine. You're the daughter of a Lord. This isn't anything you haven't already done before."

"I've never been given such power before," she retorted, her voice far too high pitched for her liking. Leon chuckled. "And there's going to be so many PEOPLE! All staring at me! I...I don't do big crowds, Leon. I just...don't!"

"Is that what's worrying you?" He smiled sympathetically. "Then may I offer you a piece of advice?"

"Please do."

"Forget the power and the responsibility for now. Forget about the people in the room...forget about everything else, and think only of this. Hunith is in there. She's the spokeswoman for all the people you helped to save. She just wants to thank you and present a gift to you. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. There is nothing to worry yourself over. I promise you. Just imagine it's you, and Hunith and Arthur in there. No-one else."

As Arthur's voice filled the suddenly silent hall beyond the doors, announcing to everyone gathered the circumstances for the ceremony, Dante turned and looked up at Leon, giving the first genuine smile she'd been able to manage all morning.

"What would I do without you, Leon?"

"Get yourself in a right state, by the looks of things, Milady," he grinned back, patting her arm as Arthur continued to announce all about the escapades in Ealdor, and the daring rescue in Fyrien.

Finally, she heard her name, and knew that her time had come. Trying to embrace what Leon had just told her, she looked up at him again. "Don't let me fall," she whispered.

"Never," he whispered back as both doors were opened wide and they stepped through, to a steady fanfare, not quite as elaborate as the one Arthur and Gwen had received, but still grand enough to make her nerves return tenfold.

She didn't lift her eyes as she walked, concentrating solely on putting one foot in front of the other, but she could hear the murmurs and rustling of the audience as she passed. Then, about half way down the aisle, Leon's encouraging squeeze on her hand gave her the courage to finally look up, and instantly she started to look for Gwaine. For a brief second she was distracted by the profusion of white blossoms that hung in the garlands from everything in the hall that wasn't alive, dripping with long lines of white gossamer ribbons. The hall was huge, and elegant in itself, beautiful carvings adorning each wall and the ceiling, and around each arch way up over their heads. Banners bearing various family sigils also fluttered overhead, and on any other day, the room would have been impressive, to say the least.

But the decorations for this particular ceremony had pushed it beyond beautiful into full on, amazingly stunning. It had now become something you could only ever imagine to exist in a dream.

Well aware that she was bordering on another panic attack, Dante tore her eyes from the lavish decorations and searched across the rows of people filling the room on either side – blushing deeply as she took in the crowd of faces all focussed on her – until at last she found him, standing right at the front where he was supposed to be, with the other Knights of the Round Table.

She was barely conscious that Arthur and Gwen stood before their thrones, with Merlin, Tamina and Kahlee standing behind them both. She didn't see Gaius or Hunith, or any of the other guests – they would have to wait till later. She didn't even see the extra, smaller and less lavish, but no less impressive wooden throne standing beside the two golden ones.

All she really saw was Gwaine's face. It filled her vision and overwhelmed her mind. His eyes were a deep, sparkling mahogany, his face almost severe with the depth of his emotion. And then, as he met her awed gaze, he broke into a breathtaking smile of exultation.

Suddenly all her fears melted away in that instant, and Leon squeezed her arm lightly to get her attention.

"That's better," he breathed, feeling her relax.

She didn't say anything in return, not completely trusting her voice just yet, but as she finally reached the front and stood before the two thrones, she offered him another grateful smile, watching as he moved back a few steps to join his fellow knights, giving her a respectful bow. Gwaine gave her a wink and another smile of encouragement, and then her attention was drawn back to Arthur, once more.

"Lady Dante," he spoke loudly and clearly, for all to hear, and the murmurs and stirrings she had caused by her entrance suddenly died down to leave the room silent once more. "We are gathered here today to acknowledge your dedication to our kingdom, and to the bravery and courage you have displayed in the name of duty. Camelot is not your home by birth, but it is your home by choice, and we wish you to remain as a permanent resident within our lands. As such, we wish to also honour you with a gift. And that is the gift of power, and responsibility. Do you accept this gift that I extend to you, on behalf of the Kingdom?"

"I do, Your Majesty," she spoke out, amazed at how confident she suddenly sounded.

"Then kneel, My Lady."

She did as she was told, and knelt on the silk cushion that had been placed before her by Merlin just seconds before. She tried to remember everything that she'd been told about how to act and what to say, and when, but discovered that when it came to it, the words just came naturally to her anyway, and she truly had no need to worry, after all.

"Do you, Lady Dante, solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot and its dominions according to the respective statues, laws and customs?"

"I do, Sire."

"Will you, to you power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?"

"I will, Sire."

"Do you swear to ensure peace, freedom, justice and security are brought to the lands through your actions, and through those under your influence?"

"I solemnly swear so to do."

"And do you swear allegiance to Camelot now, and for as long as you shall live?"

"I, Dante Quincailan, do pledge life and limb to your service, and to the service of the kingdom and its peoples."

"Then, having taken the sacred vows before King and Country, you shall henceforth be known as First Lady of Camelot. You have been accorded a great honour, but with that honour comes great responsibility. From this day on you have sworn to serve Camelot as its role model and example. Your actions and judgements will influence hundreds of lives and you must conduct yourself with the appropriate nobility, honour and respect. Your word is now your sacred bond, My Lady."

As the hall erupted with cheers and applause, Arthur held out his hands, which Dante took carefully. He helped her back to her feet and directed her to the small intricate wooden throne that had been set beside Gwen's larger and more lavish throne. She took her seat, feeling her cheeks once again colour as she looked out upon the crowd, who were still cheering and applauding. It had been so much easier when her back was to them, she decided, fighting back the nerves once more. She'd never been very good at being the centre of attention, after all, and preferred to blend into the background whenever possible.

But then Gwaine's voice cut across all the others, and she had to laugh as he whooped and punched the air, hollering like a young teen. It didn't take long for the other knights to join in and it sounded like there was a pack of rabid wolves at the front of the hall.

Even Arthur couldn't keep a straight face at that.

And then Hunith was stepping forwards and the hall fell silent once more. She dropped to her knees before Dante's chair, offering a silk cushion with a beautiful necklace on it.

"A gift, from the people of Ealdor, Milady," she explained, bowing her head to Dante. "We all came together and gave what we could to pay for it. It's not much, I'm afraid, but - "

"It's beautiful," Dante breathed, reaching out to touch the sparkling silver, and the diamonds that shone within it. "You really shouldn't have Hunith."

"A small token of our appreciation, Milady," Hunith replied as Arthur stepped forwards then.

"May I?" he asked, motioning to the necklace. Dante nodded and sat forwards a little so that he would find it easier.

Lifting the necklace from the cushion, he undid the clasp, placed it carefully round her neck, and fastened it again. At first Dante was worried that it would not work to wear both this necklace and Morgana's pendant at the same time, but it turned out that this necklace sat above the pendant, and they both complimented each other. She traced the string of diamonds for a moment, then beamed at Hunith.

"It's beautiful," she beamed. "Thank you!"

"An honour, Milady," Hunith grinned. Dante wanted to stand and embrace the woman in a huge hug then, but was afraid that it wouldn't be proper for her now, in her new station. So she held herself back reluctantly, making a mental note to catch Hunith alone later and do it then. After all, just repeating 'thank you' over and over didn't seem quite adequate enough, somehow.

...

The rest of the afternoon comprised of Arthur naming and commending every man who had helped to free the slaves in Fyrien, and giving special mention to the Round Table Knights who had fought in Ealdor alongside himself and Dante. Even Merlin was given a mention and a verbal commendation for his part in the events, along with Gaius, for his skills and talents at healing.

Finally it had been declared that there would be a great feast to honour the occasion that evening - in a few hours time. And then the ceremony was over, but still Dante was unable to escape the huge crowd, because it seemed that everyone wanted to personally congratulate her. She forced a grin and gave polite answers to each question posed. She said her thanks whenever a compliment was paid and as far as anyone else was concerned, she was perfectly at ease in her new seat of power. Only Gwaine could see how uncomfortable she actually was, and finally took her hand, announcing to the crowd that she needed time to prepare for the feast that evening.

"Thank you SO much!" Dante had cried in relief as he'd dragged her out of the hall and into a silent, deserted corridor.

"Don't mention it," he grinned. Then he turned and held out his arms to her. "Come here, you."

She stepped into his embrace immediately, without hesitation, feeling his strong arms encircle her. And it felt like such a natural thing to do. So snug and perfect, like this was where she belonged.

"Did I do well?" She asked into his chest as his chin sat lightly on top of her head.

"You did brilliantly," he assured her. She looked up at him then, and caught his eye for just a moment. Gwaine expected her to look away then, and it seemed as if she wanted to, but surprisingly she didn't.

Instead, she found herself falling deeper into his eyes, and he into hers. She seemed a bit tentative, a bit scared even as she stood in his arms, staring up at him, but she wasn't pulling away.

"Gwaine, there's something I need to tell you," she said quietly, her voice soft and full of some strange emotion that he'd never heard in her before. "And it's something I should have told you a long time ago..."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, confused.

Just as she opened her mouth to say it, however, Merlin burst round the corner, carrying a pile of Arthur's dirty washing. He could barely see over the pile as it was, and almost ran into the couple before he even realised they were there.

Gwaine and Dante sprang apart at once, moving to opposite sides of the hallway to let him through. He shouted apologies over his shoulder, but when he'd gone, so had Dante's chance.

The moment was ruined now, and if she said what she'd been wanting to say, it would have lost all meaning. She groaned in frustration, as Gwaine made a show of examining his boots.

"I'll, ah...see you at the feast then," he said, breaking the awkward silence between them. She nodded sadly.

"Yeah, I suppose you will."

"May I escort you?"

She glanced back at him then and just the tiniest hint of the moment they had 'almost' shared resurfaced. Just enough to raise a smile from the new First Lady, at least.

"I'd like that."

"Me too. I'll see you soon then, My Lady." He turned and started off down the corridor in the opposite direction, but paused after a few steps and glanced back. "You look stunning, by the way."

"Thank you," she blushed, and this time her gratitude was real and genuine. She watched him go then, and her eyes did not leave him until he had rounded the corner out of sight.

Why was nothing ever simple?

She had to wonder, as she started back for her own room, choosing to take the smaller, less well known and used passages, so as to avoid the crowds and the hundreds of people who had still to congratulate her.


	21. A Night to Remember

**Author Note: Just a short note this time, and two chapters uploaded, just to keep you going over the weekend :)**

**Everything's finally going right for Dante, at long last. But how long can it stay that way? **

**Read and enjoy, as always :) and thank you **sexystarwarslover** for your continual reviews...they're always great to read, and I look forward to them after each chapter :) They really make me smile! :D So glad you're enjoying it. **

**I**** have to admit I do have a bit of a surprise for everyone lined up for the near future...but more on that later, hehe! **

...

The feast that evening was just as lavish and spectacular as Dante had imagined it would be - if not more so. As promised, Gwaine escorted her down to the hall where he then parted from her for a time so that he could go and sit with the other knights. Merlin took over then and escorted Dante the remainder of the way to her own seat beside Gwen. He pulled her seat out for her, made sure she was comfortable and poured her first cup of wine of the evening.

"Congratulations, Milady," he said quietly to her as everybody sat waiting for the food to be brought out.

"Thank you Merlin," she forced yet another smile, already bored of hearing 'congratulations' so many times over the last few hours. Then she looked about the hall. "Does your mother join us?"

"She does, Milady. She is over beside Gaius." Merlin made a point of nodding towards another of the tables a little way away, where Hunith was engaged in some riveting conversation with the old physician, by the looks of things.

"Would you pass on a message to her, for me?" she asked, glancing back up at Merlin again as he stood by her chair, on the pretence of serving her wine, even though her cup was already full. After all, if Arthur caught him lingering and chatting to Dante when he was supposed to be working, he would never let him live it down.

"Of course, Milady."

"Kindly tell her that I wish a quiet word, when the time is convenient to her. Preferably before she returns home."

"I shall," he nodded, finally running out of excuses to remain lingering by her side. Reluctantly, he bowed his head to her. "If you'll excuse me, Milady."

"Have a good evening Merlin," she smiled after him, even though she knew full well that Arthur would probably run the poor boy off his feet before the evening was over. Then, hearing Arthur say her name, she looked back to the King in time to see him and Gwen both glance at her.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" she jumped, caught off guard. Arthur laughed.

"There wasn't one."

"Oh...sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"I'd noticed. You were too busy flirting with my manservant."

"I wasn't flirting!"

"Then why are your cheeks colouring?"

Dante coughed and looked away, under the pretence of looking for her drink and taking a long sip. When she looked back again, she'd composed herself once more.

Gwen was no longer staring at her, and had instead looked back in front of her as the plates of food began to finally arrive, but Arthur was still holding her in his steady gaze. Dante felt like she was under inspection.

"Is there something I can do for you, Arthur?" she asked at last in a casual, inquiring tone, choosing to drop the formalities as the three of them were alone up here at the Royal table and everyone else was already starting their meal and chattering loudly amongst themselves. The Royals were therefore alone and allowed freedom of speech...to a certain extent.

"I was just wondering if I should break you in gently, or throw you into the fire and see how you deal with the situation," he said, a sly quirk to one eyebrow.

"I hope you're not referring to a real fire?" she countered, slightly alarmed. This earned another amused chuckle from the King.

"I was actually thinking about a court hearing. Letting you take the reins and deal with some of the situations that the people present to us. After all, if - for whatever reason - Gwen and I are absent, the task falls to you to hear the petitions in our absence. I'm curious to see how you deal with the various situations."

"It was my idea. I think you'll be fantastic," Gwen added lightly.

"Oh thanks, Gwen!" Dante almost choked on her wine and had to take a few seconds to recover. Then all the colour drained from her face as she realised that they were both deadly serious. This wasn't all just one big joke, at her expense.

"You really mean it, don't you..."She said uncertainly. "I...ah...I don't know that I could...I wouldn't even know where to...I mean...Perhaps I could attend the meeting and observe how you deal with the situations first?"

"And where would be the fun in that?" Arthur exclaimed with a frown. "No. I've decided, the best way for you to learn will be to throw you in at the deep end."

"You do know that when teaching a person to swim, that's the quickest way to drown them?" Dante remarked, some of her old sarcastic humour returning as she recovered from the shock.

"Good job you're not learning to swim then." There was a pause. Then Arthur frowned. "CAN you swim?"

Seizing the chance to change the direction of the conversation before Arthur could find any more jobs to make her life even more difficult, Dante acknowledged this question with an answer - yes, she could swim - and for the next hour, the three of them very randomly debated about the pros and cons of the ability to swim versus the need for people to remain on dry land where they belonged. Not a very 'royal' subject, and there were surely better things that they SHOULD have been discussing, but the wine was flowing a bit too freely now, and they were in far too high spirits to talk about work. So, the random debates continued.

Swimming versus dry land.

Followed by dogs versus wolves.

Being too hot versus being too cold.

Which came first - the chicken or the egg?

And even which hurt more - childbirth for women, or being kicked in the royal jewels for men?

Dante had swiftly concluded THAT particular argument between Gwen and Arthur by offering to kick Arthur in HIS royal jewels. He'd curled away from her, further into his own chair and hastily changed the subject.

By the time people began to rise from their tables to mingle whilst the remnants of food were cleared away, Dante was very much bemused by the oddness of the past hour's conversations, but also slightly merry on the wine that Merlin had kept refilling for her, so perhaps this was the source of her bemusement, instead?

Still, her distraction had worked, much like Gwen's own tactics earlier that very same day, and Arthur had completely forgotten about finding more duties for her.

Now, if only she could shift this headache that'd she'd been enduring since breakfast that morning, things would be wonderful and she might actually be able to enjoy the evening.

...

Gwaine had been watching Dante sitting up at the High Table all evening. She appeared to be enjoying herself, at least. One moment she'd be laughing at something or other, he'd look away, look back and see that now she was arguing vehemently about something else. Then when he'd look back again, she'd be laughing once more. Whatever conversation she was holding with the Royals, it was apparently riveting, because she had not once glanced in his direction. Still, that didn't stop him from watching her and hoping, all the same.

Eventually he decided to make the first move, and saw his chance, standing from his seat and excusing himself from Percival and Tristan, who he'd been conversing with until that moment. They gave him curious looks, but then seeing what he'd just seen, their curiosity gave way to amusement.

Because Dante had also just excused herself from her conversation with Arthur and Gwen, and was heading towards the door out of the hall, slipping quietly away so as not to be noticed by the other nobles.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked as he caught up to her just outside in the corridor and slid quietly beside her.

Dante gasped and spun on the spot, then seeing who it was, breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's you."

"Charming!" He feigned insult.

And that was when he noticed her slightly pained expression and rosy cheeks. He frowned. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, perfectly," she said, quickly hiding her pain behind a rather sweet smile, if he did say so himself. "I just need some air. It's getting a little stuffy in there."

Realising that she wasn't wrong about that, Gwaine tugged at the collar of his shirt and nodded. "Just a little." Feeling the sweat at the back of his neck as he loosened his cape, he tried to blow a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, but to no effect. Dante forcefully held back a laugh - it was a struggle for her, he could tell - and reached up to brush it away with her fingertips. Her delicate touch sent a shiver down his spine.

And then she frowned and looked away as they started to walk side by side, and he could see the look of pain return.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he asked again as they both paused by the doors leading out to the courtyard. "You do look a little flushed." As he spoke, hardly even aware of the motion, he reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. He nearly pulled back when he realized what he was doing, but since she didn't object, he let himself move closer to her, his hand moving over the curve of her cheekbone to stroke a stray hair from her own eyes.

"I'm fine," she insisted eventually, and he couldn't fail to notice that her voice had taken on a considerably husky tone – one that sent a shiver down his spine again. "Just a little hot."

"In more ways than one," he grinned.

She grinned in embarrassment and her cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of pink as they started to walk again, towards the well in the centre of the courtyard, both walking much closer to each other than they had been before – Dante holding on a little firmer to his arm, whilst he rested his other hand on top.

...

They eventually reached the well as the snow continued to flutter lightly down around them, and both took a seat on the low stone wall, breathing in the welcome - if very chilly - air. Within a matter of minutes their footprints through the snow had vanished, though the snow was not falling nearly half as heavy as it had been that night when Dante had made her midnight trek to Morgana's hut.

It was cold out, but Gwaine had the thick padding of his undershirts and the heavy chainmail to keep him warm, and he'd very chivalrously given Dante his cloak to wrap up in, so neither were that bothered by the temperature. If anything, the snow made everything that much more beautiful, and dare they admit it - even romantic.

Gwaine watched Dante for a long moment as she picked up a few loose stones by their feet and dropped them into the well, watching in quiet fascination as the ripples spread out, distorting the reflection of the moon way down in the water below them.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked at last, though she didn't turn her eyes from the ripples in the water.

"Me?" he asked, caught off guard by her question.

This did draw her attention and she glanced sideways at him, eyebrows raised. "Well I'm hardly going to ask myself, am I?"

He laughed, realising how stupid he must have looked to her at that moment in time, and then sighed. "Yeah alright, point taken."

"So?" she pushed, gently.

"Well," he started, wondering how to voice his thoughts. "I'm kind of wondering...why you let me get away with talking to you the way I do, especially now that you're Camelot's First Lady. Anyone else would have had me thrown in the stocks, or a cell by now."

Dante laughed, and this time it was his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"I sometimes wonder that myself," she admitted at last. But then she grinned. "I guess...it's because I know you don't mean what you say." Catching his eye, she quickly added, "Most of the time. Besides, you're witty and smart. Bickering with you is actually quite fun, believe it or not. Because it's never serious. And you can give as good as you get, which is always a bonus."

"Likewise," he grinned.

They sat in silence for a while longer, Dante going back to making ripples dance gently across the surface of the water below, whilst Gwaine was content to just watch her instead. Something inside him was telling him that he needed to do something, however. Be a gentleman...say something, before she grew bored of his company and went back inside.

"So, Milady," he said at last, clearing his throat, having finally decided what he wanted to say. She looked up at him, her face a mixture of naive innocence and curiosity, and he felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into her beautiful mahogany eyes. Then, remembering what he was supposed to be doing, he cleared his throat again.

"How does it feel to be the second most powerful woman in the entire Kingdom."

"Please, don't remind me," she groaned. "I've just spent all evening trying to forget."

"You really don't like this honour you've been given, do you."

"It's not an honour, it's a duty...a chore! And it involves crowds. And now Arthur wants me to sit in on the trials and maybe even preside over a few myself! Can you imagine it, Gwaine? Me! Presiding over a trial, choosing who's innocent and who's not? Or who's right and who's wrong? Who gets the prize and who goes home empty handed?"

"Ah," Gwaine nodded in understanding then. "Being the centre of attention never was your forte."

"Now you understand why I'm so uncomfortable with all this?"

"I do understand," he nodded sincerely, reaching out to hold her hand. She studied him for a while, and he shifted, feeling slightly awkward under her intense gaze. Then, finally, she dropped her eyes back to the water, and his mind began to reel, searching desperately for something else to say, to break the silence. But there was only one other thing he could say, and he just couldn't form the words in his mind, let alone speak them aloud.

But then as he moved and a small pouch on his belt dug into his rib painfully, he was sharply reminded of something else. Reaching carefully into the pouch, he pulled out something small, which he held cupped in one gloved hand.

"Dante?" He asked, then waited patiently for her to look back up at him once more. "Please do not take this the wrong way, but I have a gift for you. To say congratulations. But, as I said, coming from me, it would be easy to take this the wrong way so...well...please don't..."

"O...kay..." she frowned, wondering what on earth he was going on about. He extended his hand to her then and uncurled his fingers, to reveal a ring.

It was silver and fairly plain, the only decoration coming from the sapphire the size of a small marble, that sat on the top.

"Oh," she breathed, not sure what to say.

"As I said, don't take it the wrong way," he repeated, suddenly anxious that this was exactly what she'd done. She continued to stare for a moment, before her eyes snapped back up to meet his.

"And what way am I NOT supposed to be taking this?"

"Well, I didn't want you to think that I was proposing to you. Because I'm not. Not that I don't want to marry you, of course! You're a beautiful lady, and you were my betrothed once and those were the best years of my life and...well this isn't a proposal. Unless you wanted it to be of course? Because it could always mean that, if you wanted it to. I'd happily marry you in a heartbeat! Though not that I'd blame you if you didn't want to marry me. I've been a right pig to you, I know..."

He was seriously floundering now, and Dante found it all incredibly cute.

"Gwaine –" she started. But apparently he wasn't finished yet, and carried on speaking over her, not letting her have a chance to interrupt. He was determined to say what he needed to say.

"Running out on you all those years ago was the worst possible betrayal of your trust. You deserved better."

"Gwaine?"

"And yet now, whenever anyone else even dares to look at you - "

"Gwaine?"

"I just get so angry inside, and I know that I have no right to, because you don't belong to me. You're free to make your own choices and be with who you want to be with and - "

"Gwaine!"

"I'm so sorry Dante. If you don't ever forgive me, I'll understand. It's what I deserve. But I just needed to say this to you now...because I just needed to tell you how terrible I feel about all this, and how I wish with all my heart that I could undo everything I did back then. I love you, Dante Quincailan. I always have done, and I always will do, forever more. Of that, at least, I am certain."

Dante was quiet then. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, her expression still impossible to read. And then she raised her perfect eyebrows and tilted her head ever so slightly in a quizzical manner.

"Is that the sapphire from the dagger I gave you? The one you used to heal me?"

"What?" He asked, caught off guard. He'd just poured his heart out to the woman and THAT was all she could think of to say in return? "Erm yeah, it is. Why?"

"The sapphire was the heart of the dagger," she said thoughtfully, as she slid the ring onto her right ring finger and admired it for a moment.

"I guess it was," he replied, frowning. Had she seriously not listened to a word he'd just said?

"And you love that dagger - I think. Considering you are never seen without it at your side now. So it must be precious to you. Therefore you could say," she continued, apparently oblivious to his wounded feelings, "that you have given me YOUR heart..."

"I guess," he agreed, feeling his anger at her insensitivity growing inside him. But then she took his face very gently in her hands and he felt all the anger suddenly drain as she stroked his bearded cheek with one thumb, studying the look in his eyes, almost as if seeking permission. Then she leaned forward and her soft lips pressed very gently against his.

He was taken by surprise, just about to speak again, but quieted as he accepted the kiss, and eventually returned it as his other hand moved up to gently wrap around the back of her neck.

It lasted no longer than a few seconds, but to the pair of them, it felt like a lifetime. And it felt wonderful. Dante had no idea she'd been longing for that moment, until it actually happened.

"Do you accept my heart, then?" he asked as they sat, foreheads pressed lightly together, gazing into each other's eyes as the snow began to settle upon them finally, and not just melt into their hair and clothes.

"I never let it go," she reminded, referring back to the first time they had been together, as a young couple so long ago.

Gwaine leapt to his feet then, scooped her up into his arms, kissed her again and carried her back inside.

"I could get used to this," she teased as he hurried the familiar route to her chambers.

"So could I," he agreed with a grin, stealing another quick kiss before ascending the last set of stairs.

"What about the feast?" she asked as he carried her through the door to her chambers and kicked it closed behind him.

"Everyone's too drunk to notice," he assured her, carrying her into her bedroom and kicking that door closed as well. "Trust me."

"Always," she replied without hesitation, kissing him on the neck and feeling the shiver run down his spine once more.

Then they collapsed into a giggling heap on her bed.

...

Outside in the corridor Hunith smiled and turned away. Merlin had told her about Dante's request to meet with her, but apparently the First Lady's attention was currently 'occupied' by the very handsome Sir Gwaine.

She'd try again to seek an audience with Dante in the morning, before leaving with the small party that Arthur was loaning her, to escort her safely home. Deciding that she could not stand around in this draughty corridor all night, and knowing that Dante was unlikely to be emerging from her chambers any time in the near future, she returned to the feast to find her son and Gaius again.

...

A little later, Gwaine looked down at Dante. Her eyes were sleepy now, but very bright and there was a soft smile on her face that simply refused to leave.

"Dante," he asked, his voice husky. "Will you marry me?"

"Of course."

"_'Of course'_ she says...just like that! And after all this time...!"

"I'm a woman and I reserve the right to be inconsistent," she explained lightly, holding up her right hand and sliding the ring off. Then she slid it onto her left ring finger instead. The finger where an engagement ring would sit.

He laughed and kissed her nose. She pulled a face and he laughed again. Then he looked deep into her eyes.

"We'll have to keep it a secret."

She frowned, startled. "What? Why?"

"Come on Dante, you've been promoted. You've got new powers, new responsibilities...how suspicious is it going to look to everyone that the day you get promoted is the day we 'get together'? They'll think I'm only using you for your power and position in the monarchy."

"Then let them."

"Dante!"

"Why should I care what other people think, Gwaine? I'm happy, you're happy, what else matters?"

"You're a representative of the Royal Household now. You could say you've become public property. People look to you for guidance and leadership. You have to set the example, in everything you do. If they're going to see us together, at least let them believe we are together for love."

"We ARE together for love!"

"You know what I mean. That's not the way they'll see it."

She opened her mouth to protest, closed it again, let out a long huff, then shrugged. "Yeah, alright, point taken. But can we really keep it a secret? We'd be living a lie..." _I'm already living a lie, and I can barely hold it together...can I really live TWO lies - and not just small ones either?_

If his idea to keep it a secret had been a surprise to Dante, his next proposal, however, was downright shocking.

"Well then, we should run away together. Some place far away, where no-one can find us and we can start a new life together. Be who WE want to be and not have to worry about any of this." He waved a vague hand about under the sheet, but Dante knew that he was referring to more than just her bed, then. He was referring to the Kingdom of Camelot, the people in it, even its laws and customs - everything that was now a part of their life.

She glared at him, wondering if he was joking, and when she saw no hint of amusement in his gaze, she turned away, rolling out from under his arms, disentangling herself from the sheets and sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"No," she said firmly, and with utter conviction. "Absolutely not. You may be the running type, but I'm not."

Choosing to ignore the insult, Gwaine also sat up. "This, coming from the girl who ran away from her own home in the middle of the night?"

She shot a deadly glare over her shoulder, and he briefly recoiled, holding the bed sheet up between them in a feeble attempt at a shield.

"Why do you say that?" She challenged, icily.

He shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "You may have fooled the others with your spiel about your own father selling you to Lot, but you forget, I've known Ector most of my life. He was the one who helped my mother after we came to Essetir, and I know how much he detests the very idea of slavery. So I'm sorry, my love, but that story never washed with me, no matter how convincing you made it sound."

She glared at him a moment longer, and then looked away, her head hanging in shame. "You knew all along?"

"Of course."

"And you never said?"

"Wasn't my place. You had your reasons for lying...I trusted your judgement."

She huffed, but didn't say anything further, and eventually he reached over and began tracing patterns gently across her back, causing her to squirm and shiver slightly.

"So, why did you lie?"

"Does it matter?" she shrugged at last, her back still to him.

"If we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, then there should be no secrets. I want to know everything about you. The good...and the bad."

"It wasn't a complete lie," she said at last, still not looking in his direction. "I did run away of my own accord, but I ended up Lot's slave anyway."

"I gathered." Gwaine momentarily curled his hand into a fist. "I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance."

"And rob me of the chance for my own payback?" She retorted, glancing back at him finally with the hint of a smile.

"You make him suffer girl - promise me."

"Oh I assure you, my love," she nodded sincerely. "He'll be begging for death by the time I've finished with him."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Gwaine mused. Then he shuddered. He'd seen Dante scorned. He'd felt her wrath. And suddenly he pitied Lot.

Dante shrugged then, deciding that she really didn't want to get angry right now - and talking about Lot was doing exactly that. So she decided to steer the topic back to its original destination.

"So, what are we going to do about us? You're a knight, I'm First Lady...is it even allowed for us to, you know...'mingle'?"

He gave a bark of amused laughter then. "You do come out with some strange things, you dozy mare! Of course we can 'mingle'. Arthur took a serving girl as his queen! Why should anyone care that his First Lady dates a knight? Besides, I'm not just any old knight, I'll have you know. I'm a member of his elite 'Round Table Order'. That makes me special." He puffed out his chest in pride.

"Sure it does," she grinned, finally beginning to feel her mood lighten again as she poked him.

"Besides, we've both been under so much pressure to be perfect for pretty much our entire lives. We've never given ourselves a break," he continued, more seriously.

"We can't give ourselves a break," she sighed bitterly, her sour mood returning as she looked away from him again. "There was always too much at stake. There's ALWAYS going to be something standing in our way."

"Hey," Gwaine said to her softly then, and she felt his hand rest gently in the small of her back, his skin warm and soothing.

She glanced back over her shoulder "Yes?"

"Come here."

Dante tried - and failed - to hide a smile as she turned back to him, her good mood returning again in an instant as she shifted her whole body so she was sitting sideways on the bed. "Oh? Still impatient, Sir Knight?"

Gwaine sat up then in a mock 'proper' way - obviously mimicking her. "Still trying to maintain control, My Lady?"

"Trying..." She leant over and placed both her hands on his chest, looking deep into his eyes. "But failing."

And that was when she noticed his voice had become incredibly husky again. "Good. I'm almost out of moves."

"I'm not."

Was it his imagination, or was that a hint of a challenge he saw twinkling in her eye then as they both collapsed back into the mound of pillows?


	22. The Trial

Gwaine had forewarned Dante that he would most likely be gone by the time she awoke - though not through any choice of his own. Arthur had put him on the early patrol, thinking he was doing the knight a favour, as it meant he'd be back in time to see Dante in action during her first trial. Although Gwaine was incredibly grateful to the king for this, he would much rather have been allowed to wake up beside the woman he loved and not have to sneak about getting dressed in the constant fear that he'd wake her.

Still, he and Dante had (finally) agreed that for the moment at least, nobody should know about them being together. So he couldn't protest with the King's decision in this instance, without giving them both away.

This meant, however, that when Dante did finally waken a few hours after he'd left, she was sorely disappointed to find herself alone in the big bed. Doing her best to hide the disappointment, she rubbed her eyes sleepily and sat up as Kahlee entered the room.

"Good morning Milady," the maid chirped. She was far too bright in the mornings and sometimes it grated on Dante's nerves. Today was one such day.

"Is it?" she grumbled, attempting to bury herself back under her covers again.

Kahlee was momentarily taken aback. But then she shrugged and carried on as if nothing had happened, throwing the curtains open and flooding the bed in golden rays of early morning sunlight, which only caused Dante to groan and protest even louder.

"Now now, Milady. The King wants you up bright and early," Kahlee reminded, knowing full well by now that Dante really was not a morning person. As such, she'd also learned not to take anything that Dante said in the mornings personally. Such as the very colourful comment that had just filtered from under the sheets about Arthur, and where he could stick his early mornings.

The maid just shrugged again, holding back her laughter as she busied herself about the room, tidying it and getting it ready for the day, as Dante remained stubbornly hidden under the covers, grumbling and groaning.

Dante didn't even surface when there was a loud rap at the door to her outer chambers.

"I'll go then, shall I?" Kahlee offered brightly, earning an "it's what you're paid for" comment in return. Smirking at the infamous bad mood of her mistress, Kahlee went to open the door, only to find Arthur himself standing outside.

"Your Majesty," she gasped, dropping into a quick curtsey.

"Is Dante coming down today, or not?" Arthur demanded, looking over the maid's shoulder to the bedroom.

"She is...being rather difficult, Sire," Kahlee confessed eventually, not really sure how to word it any other way.

"Difficult?" Arthur groaned, marching into the room."Not again...Dante Quincailan! Get out here now and stop being so stubborn!"

There was silence for a moment, and then a very long, VERY colourful stream of curses thrown back at him. Even Kahlee blushed at some of them. She frowned apologetically to the king, who rolled up his sleeves.

"Don't make me come in there and get you! You've got until the count of three! One...two..."

A pillow came sailing out the door, and he ducked, narrowly avoiding it.

"Right, I have had it with you and your pathetic early morning grouches! Get out here and behave like a grown up, or I'm stripping you of your new title and putting you on stable duty for a week!"

Another pillow flew out and caught him square in the face.

"STABLE DUTY FOR A MONTH!" He roared as Kahlee scampered to collect the pillows before he could launch them back in retaliation and start a full blown pillow fight. The last time that had happened, it had snapped Dante out of her bad mood pretty quickly, but Kahlee had then spent the next three days picking up all the feathers.

"Right," Arthur growled, pulling off his gloves and passing them to Kahlee. "She leaves me no choice."

And he marched straight into the lion's den. There were several shouts of indignation and then a shriek, followed by more cursing, a loud crash and a cry of surprise from Arthur.

He quickly came back out with the bed sheets, two remaining pillows and even one of the silk drapes that hung around her bed in his arms. Throwing them at Kahlee, his cheeks bright red and his ears burning crimson, he then bolted for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Kahlee looked from the dismantled bed in her arms, to the door the King had just retreated very quickly through, and then back to the bedroom again in time to see Dante emerge, looking bedraggled and very annoyed as she stood shivering, wrapped only in a thin blanket which she must have snatched from somewhere in a hurry. She, too, was blushing madly and Kahlee quickly figured out what must have happened.

"I thought you always slept in a gown?" she asked innocently, trying to hide her amusement. Dante scowled at her.

"It was too hot last night and the silk was irritating," she growled, clutching the blanket tighter round herself. "Besides, I never expected Arthur to come barging into my room like that. You could have warned me!"

"I didn't know he would do that, Milady!" Kahlee protested, dropping the bed sheets and throwing her hands up in defence.

Dante growled again incoherently and stormed back into her bedroom to get dressed, and Kahlee just chuckled, not believing Dante's excuse about it being hot, for one second. She'd seen Gwaine slinking away from this very room a few hours earlier, and didn't, for one minute, believe that he'd just 'stopped by for a quick chat' on his way to morning patrol.

Still, she went along with it for now, and hurried down to the kitchen to get Dante's breakfast. The sooner Dante got some food into her, and a good cup of iced milk and honey, the sooner her bad mood would clear up and she'd be far more civil and easier to get on with again.

How she'd react to Arthur after what he'd just seen, however, was another matter entirely, and Kahlee desperately hoped that she could be in the room when they finally came face to face once more.

...

Sadly, the young maid was sorely disappointed, because Dante and Arthur were wearing their 'professional' masks when she finally slipped in to join the other servants at the back of the room, sometime later, whilst awaiting the trials to begin. Nobody would ever have known that anything had happened between the King and his First Lady - who were being perfectly civil and polite to one another. There was not a blush in sight, and Kahlee quickly decided that they were single-handedly the two most gifted actors she had ever come across.

And the fact that Gwen was conversing with both as if nothing had happened either told Kahlee that actually, the Queen probably didn't even know. If Arthur and Dante had decided to keep it a secret from Arthur's wife, then that was their choice...but if she'd been in their shoes, she'd have told everything, then and there. Made it much less messy on the whole to deal with, and people could not use it as blackmail against you later, either. She made a mental note to advise this to her Mistress later, then turned to watch as the people who wished to petition to the king filed into the room, standing in their designated area, in a long line down the centre, between the two crowds.

Arthur glanced at Dante, before standing.

"I would like to thank you all for coming, and inform you of one very slight change to the usual routine of these hearings. The Lady Dante joins us today, in order to learn about our laws and customs, and to aid myself and our queen in solving matters of dispute. Please give her the honour and the courtesy that she deserves, and respect her decisions as if they were my own."

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd then, but every set of eyes turned on Dante, who fought to keep her nerves from showing, as she stood up, hands clenched tightly into fists behind her back.

From the front, she looked regal and dignified - everything a First Lady should be. But to Arthur and Gwen, she looked scared to death. Gwen nodded to her encouragingly.

She cleared her throat. "Will the first petitioners please step forwards."

Two women came forwards, glaring daggers at one another as a Camelot Guard stepped between them, holding a sleeping infant. All three bowed their respects to the Royals, as Dante took her seat again, prepared to listen to what they had to say. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gwaine slip in through a side door, and instantly felt all the tensions of that morning fading in an instant.

The guard stepped forward then. He would be the mediator in this particular dispute, as with all disputes. Arthur had explained to Dante just before the petitions had begun that each dispute had a mediator, who would give a summary of the situation on behalf of both parties. That way there was no jostling for voices to be heard, no conflicting statements being shouted at the same time and no one side being favoured over the other. The mediator would explain the situation, and then each side would take it in turns to explain their version of events, answering any questions posed to them.

"Your Majesties. My Lady..." the guard spoke, carefully cradling the baby in his arms. "This child was born four months past in a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom. To my left is Miss Katelyn, who claims to be the child's mother. And to my right, Miss Kara, who also claims the child as her own. With no known father to confirm who is the rightful mother of the child, the matter has been brought before you to decide who may raise him."

Arthur groaned and placed a hand to his head. He hated these kinds of disputes. How could he decide who was rightfully the child's mother? But, to his surprise, before he could even begin to question either woman, Dante leaned across the arm of her chair to get his attention.

"May I?" she asked quietly. "My father encountered a similar dispute once, when I was younger. He showed me a painless way to solve it."

"Absolutely," Arthur nodded in earnest. "Be my guest."

So Dante turned back to the assembled crowd and cleared her throat again. "Miss Katelyn?" She called out, and the woman called Katelyn stepped forwards.

"My Lady," she said, with another quick bow.

"Tell me, Miss Katelyn, why your child has no father," Dante said after a moment of carefully studying the woman. She bore all the trademarks of a woman who had recently given birth.

"He was a soldier for our good King's army," Katelyn explained. "Guy, son of Garsiv."

"He was killed in action a year ago," Arthur informed the court, remembering the name.

"He was, My Lord. He would have loved to have seen his son grow. He has his eyes."

"I'm sure he does," Dante said kindly. Then she turned to Kara. "And why does your son not have a father?"

Like Katelyn, Kara also bore all the trademark signs of a woman who had recently given birth.

"He was a smuggler - Varick Gathorn," she admitted quietly. "He would often sneak away from his group to meet with me in the barn at the back of my father's farm."

"Killed during the Camelot uprising, Your Majesties." This time it was Tristan's turn to speak up, though it was of no surprise, as he had been a smuggler in the same group as this man, apparently, and knew him well. "A good man."

Dante nodded thoughtfully. She studied each woman for a long moment, then looked at the child in the guard's arms.

"Kara, what is your son's name?"

"Luke, My Lady."

"And Katelyn, what is your son called?"

"Alistair, My Lady."

Dante frowned. Was that just a mere coincidence, or had Katelyn somehow known that her brother was called Alistair, and gone for what she hoped might be a vote of favour by naming her son after him? Considering very few people knew the names of her family members, Dante decided to give the woman the benefit of the doubt...for now. Even though there was something suspicious about the way she was nervously shifting from one foot to another and avoiding complete eye contact. She was looking AT Dante, certainly, but she was not looking at her eyes...rather her shoulder. Dante briefly glanced down to see if there was anything of interest on her shoulder, then frowned, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and resumed her questioning once more.

This reaction could have been mere nerves, after all

"And where was Alistair born?"

"At home, Milady. With my handmaiden and eldest daughter as witness."

"Are they here today?"

"No Milady."

"Pity. Kara, where was Luke born?"

"At home, Milady. With my father and cousin as witness."

"And let me guess, they are not here today, either?"

"No Milady."

Dante groaned. "Did it not occur to either of you that this whole mess could have been dealt with by now, had you thought to bring these witnesses you claim?"

Arthur eyed her sharply and there was another ripple of surprise running through the crowd as she stood up and walked over to the guard holding the baby. Taking the child carefully from him, she looked down at the sleeping baby. It was impossible to tell from his incredibly cute baby features just who he resembled. And both women's stories were holding strong. His mother could have been either woman. So was he Alistair? Or was he Luke? She'd hoped that one woman would trip up, make a mistake and the matter would be easy to resolve. She had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but the women left her no choice.

"Sir Gwaine, your sword please, if you will," she called out, turning to look at him. He stared at her in stunned silence, but when he saw the look she gave him, which quite clearly said "trust me, I know what I'm doing," he reluctantly stepped forwards, drawing his weapon with a ring of steel. Both mothers bristled anxiously, and even Arthur and Guinevere sat up straighter in their thrones.

"Now," Dante turned to the women with a bright smile. "It's impossible for me to choose who is the right mother and who isn't, so you're just going to have to share. How would you like your son to be split? Head to toe? Or across the middle?"

Several cries and shouts went up then from the enraged crowd, and Arthur stood up sharply. "Dante, that's enough," he ordered, but she ignored him and turned to Gwaine.

"Swing your sword when I tell you," she hissed quietly. "But whatever you do, don't touch the child." Seeing his reluctance, she held his gaze firmly and said, "Trust me."

He nodded, and she turned back to the two women.

"Well, as neither of you seems particularly bothered, I say Sir Gwaine, the choice is up to you. Kindly split the boy for me, so these two lovely young women may be on their way?"

She nodded at him, and Gwaine very reluctantly drew his sword up above his head as she held the baby out at arm's length.

"Dante!" Arthur roared, rushing towards her as Gwaine swung the sword down in a slow arc. But Dante had a plan.

And it worked like a charm.

"NO!" Kara screamed, rushing forwards and throwing herself between Gwaine and her son. Gwaine dropped his sword back by his side again in relief.

There was a deathly silence in the room for several seconds then, and Dante looked to the other woman. Katelyn hadn't even flinched.

"Here's your son," Dante said quietly to Kara. "I'm sorry for the deception. He was never in any danger. I would not dream of hurting an innocent. Especially one as gorgeous as him."

"Thank you My lady," Kara breathed in relief as she cradled her son close to her. Dante turned back to Katelyn, who had realised her mistake too late, and was now cursing herself.

"What happened to your own child?" Dante asked softly, walking over to place a hand on her shoulder.

"He did not survive the birth, Milady," Katelyn admitted as she began to sniff and sob. Dante pulled her into a comforting embrace as the tears began to flow freely then.

"So you thought you would steal another woman's child and pretend he was yours," she realised, feeling nothing but sorrow and pity for the woman then. Katelyn didn't even bother trying to deny it.

As the guards started forwards to arrest her, Dante waved them away and finally freed herself from Katelyn. "Whilst your actions were not wise, I can sympathise with your reasons. Therefore you are free to go. However, if you ever try to pull a stunt like that again, I'm afraid I will have no choice but to have you arrested. Is that understood?"

"Of course, My Lady. Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Yes Milady. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!" Kara added. Then she turned to Katelyn. "I'm sorry about your son."

"And I'm sorry I tried to steal yours."

"There now, are we all friends again?" Dante asked brightly. She offered them both a friendly smile as they were ushered out and then she retook her seat beside Gwen, who was beaming proudly.

"See, I told you," she muttered. Dante rolled her eyes.

"Yes alright, maybe this petition stuff isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"Well done," Arthur congratulated sincerely, leaning across his wife so that he would not have to raise his voice. "I would never have thought of that. We'd still be going round in circles now if I'd taken that one."

"Like I said, my father once had a similar dispute between two of his farmers. Only it was over a horse, not a child."

Arthur snorted in amusement. "Who won?"

"Neither. My father took the horse as his own, when he threatened to cut it in half, and neither man flinched. Turns out neither man was the owner. They'd both stolen it and were arguing over who got the prize."

Arthur couldn't help it then, and roared with laughter. Even Gwen couldn't contain her fit of giggles, and everyone in the room glanced up at the Royals in amusement. Even the other petitioners, who had been quietly arguing amongst themselves until then, glanced up in surprise. Their looks of fear turned to looks of hope instead. With the King and Queen in such good moods, perhaps their wishes would be granted, after all. Though everyone was in firm agreement, after the first dispute, that the Lady Dante was definitely one to watch out for in the future.

...

As the morning wore on, Arthur took over most of the disputes and petitions, though occasionally Gwen would step in to give assistance. Dante, however, remained quiet, choosing to watch how Arthur dealt with the situations instead. He was fair and just in all his decisions, she noticed, and would take both sides into account when passing a sentence or judgement. He'd also consult her and Gwen whenever he seemed unsure, and would listen to their advice carefully.

This man was born to lead, she decided. And whatever reservations she may have had about him before - whatever simmering hate she may be harbouring over his apparent ease at condemning her to death...she could not deny that he was a good king.

Neither could she deny that she was bored of petitions now, either. There's only so much arguing and protesting a person can stand before they go mad, and Dante had passed that point ages ago. Now she'd resorted to studying one of her sleeves, out of sheer boredom.

Glancing across, Gwen saw the look of concentration on her face and whispered quietly, "What are you doing?"

"Counting stitches," Dante replied, equally as quietly. "There's at least two thousand in this first row alone."

Gwen made a weird strangled noise then, as she fought to keep from laughing aloud. A momentary hush descended over the room and everyone glanced at her. Colouring with embarrassment, she motioned for Arthur to continue. He stared at her for a minute longer, then shrugged it off and motioned for the petition to continue. Gwen studiously avoided all eye contact with Dante after that, for fear that she'd do something equally as amusing to get her into trouble once more.

Dante, meanwhile, stared back at Gwen out of the corner of her eye, fighting a grin of her own. That was when she saw Gwaine moving his hands ever so slightly.

To anyone watching, it would merely have looked like he was fidgeting, wringing his hands a little or twiddling his thumbs. But to Dante, this fidgeting had a whole different meaning. Because long ago, when they were children, she and Gwaine had invented a secret code that relied on hand signals so that they could communicate to one another, no matter where they were, or what they were doing at the time. Her brothers had been in on the 'code' as well, but nobody else had been privy to it, and it had been their little secret. Dante had been so thrilled, as a child, to have a special secret all to herself.

These days, she had so many secrets, she could barely keep track of them.

She blinked now, staring back at Gwaine just to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was. After all, she had not seen the 'code' be put to use for at least ten years now, and she could very well be mistaken. And yet there it was, right in front of her, and she couldn't deny that it was in fact the 'code', because Gwaine was staring right at her, to make sure he was getting his point across.

She nodded ever so slightly to show him that she'd acknowledged his request - to meet up after the meeting - then tucked a strand of hair behind her right ear - the sign for 'yes'. Or 'okay', depending on the context it was being used in.

Yes, she would meet him after the meeting.

Then she sat up a little straighter, tilting her head ever so slightly to one side. The symbol for 'where?'.

He appeared to consider for a moment, then held a hand down by his side, flexing it as if he had cramp. In reality, this was their secret symbol for 'leave that to me'.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her right ear again, to acknowledge this.

Then he made a very brief gesture towards himself, followed by a gesture towards her, and then a nod towards the door. This wasn't part of their code, but his meaning couldn't have been clearer. Did she want to leave now?

This time she tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear with a frown. This was her way of saying 'no'.

A shrug of his shoulders. 'Why?'

She made a point of looking straight at Arthur, and then to each of the doors around the room in turn. There was no way she'd ever be able to slip out unnoticed.

Gwaine breathed in deeply and nodded - he'd seen her point, and was admitting to defeat in this silent argument. After a moment, he made a very small gesture holding his hand by his side, palm to the floor. Then he raised it up and down slightly. He was telling her to wait. Then a shrug of his shoulders showed that it was a question.

Did she want him to wait?

She tucked a strand behind her right ear again. 'Yes.'

Now it was his turn to tuck a strand of hair behind his right ear. 'Okay.'

Thankfully he didn't have long to wait, because after the current petition had been resolved, Arthur stood and held up a hand. "Thank you, no more petitions today."

And that was that. Gwaine and everybody else were finally able to leave. But not Dante. As she rose to take her leave also, Arthur called her back. It appeared that tradition stated the ruling heads who had governed the petitions - in this instance himself, Gwen and Dante - had to convene to discuss the outcomes of the petitions.

Dante groaned, giving Gwaine a quick sign to say that this may take a while, and he sighed, leaving the room dejectedly.

Arthur, meanwhile, hadn't noticed this brief display and issued his wife and First Lady into an adjoining room, with a table, stacks of parchment and several comfy looking seats. Candles lined the walls and a fire blazed merrily in the hearth.

As soon as the door was closed, he sighed. "Well that was hard work."

"They don't usually last that long then?" Dante asked, trying to force herself to sound interested. But her words were rushed. She was dying to get back to Gwaine.

"Not really. I'm sorry I kept you for so long."

"Not at all." She glanced impatiently at the door.

"Am I keeping you from something? You seem in a bit of a hurry?"

"No, no...I'm just tired."

"Really? It's only midday. And you look kind of hyped," he noted. Why did this have to be the one time Arthur decided to pay particular attention?

"Do I?" was all she could manage in response. "Must be the sun. I've gotten so used to snow, I'd forgotten what the sun felt like."

"I know that feeling," he agreed.

"Mmmm," she nodded, trying to keep still and not fidget. "I don't like the cold."

"Really? I hear Essetir's much colder than Camelot."

"It is," she admitted with a grin. "That's why I don't like it."

Arthur laughed, before Gwen finally cleared her throat.

"Arthur, let the poor girl go back to bed. She must be shattered. She's still not fully recovered, after all."

"Ah yes, I keep forgetting," he nodded. "Very well, this meeting can keep. It's of no great importance anyway. You were there for the decisions, so I don't really need to go over what was said."

"So that's it? I can go?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'll walk you back to your room, if you'd like?"

"Oh there's no need," she insisted quickly, standing up from her chair.

"No it's alright," he nodded. "I can fill you in on a few things on the way."

Dante held back a groan of frustration, forced a smile and nodded. "Then I'd be delighted, Sire."

So Arthur escorted her back to her rooms and she had to work hard to make her tread slow and tired as she walked. He rambled on about politics and laws and the outcomes of the petitions from that morning, and she nodded, hoping she was nodding in the right places, even though she wasn't actually paying attention at all. She was scanning their surroundings, looking for a familiar figure.

Saying goodbye to him, she closed the door, waited until his footsteps had died away, then turned and scanned the darkened room.

"Gwaine?" She whispered, feeling completely idiotic, as she highly doubted he would be there.

She was right. Groaning aloud and cursing their stupid idea to keep it a secret, she kicked out at the nearby table, catching it with her toe. Then she began to hop about, cursing out loud until Kahlee came running in, looking flustered.

"What is it, Milady? I didn't hear you return! I was just making your bed and - Is everything alright?"

"No it's not!" Dante growled. "Why is nothing ever simple?"

"Anything I may help with, Milady?" Kahlee offered, startled by this outburst.

"Unless you can tell me where I can find Sir Bloody Gwaine, then no, there's nothing you can do right now, Kahlee, except leave me alone!"

"Well it's a good job I know where to find him then, Milady," Kahlee grinned. Dante stopped cursing and froze, her pained foot still hanging in the air slightly. Then she frowned.

"So? Where IS he?"

"Well, _officially_, Sir Gwaine is extremely busy," the maid said, calmly, as if reciting from memory. "He has been sequestered all day in the Knight's barracks, reviewing the new security measures, drawing up rotas and timetables for patrols, as well as training routines for the new recruits and - "

"Oh brilliant!" Dante snapped. "So he's not free after all. The lying toad! Wait till I get my hands on - wait," her outburst was cut short as Kahlee's words registered. She blinked. "Did you say _officially_?"

"Yes Milady," Kahlee replied, with a nod. "That is my _official_ answer to all queries regarding Sir Gwaine's whereabouts. All afternoon."

Dante smiled as realisation dawned. "And _un_officially?"

The maid leaned closer, with an exaggeratedly conspiratorial whisper. "Unofficially, he's waiting outside the city, with two horses and a picnic."

It felt like being struck by lightning. But in a good way. In the best of ways. Kahlee again leaned in conspiratorially. "He thought it best to avoid a...ah... _public_ scene. And he wished for me to relate to you that he believes the _both _of you might..._avoid _a public scene...all _afternoon. _And perhaps all night as well."

"Kahlee!" Dante blinked at her handmaiden, suddenly feeling an irrational desire to giggle. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say, Milady," Kahlee shrugged, a picture of innocence. "I am only performing as per Sir Gwaine's instructions."

"You - " Dante shook her head in wonder while her smile grew to a grin she thought might split her cheeks. "You are amazing, Kahlee. Have I ever told you that?"

"Not enough," she shrugged, and Dante laughed again, giving her a quick hug.

"I'm sorry. I should say it more. Because you are amazing."

"It's alright, Milady. You say things best when you don't say them at all, I've noticed. Now get going, before Gwaine grows bored of waiting."

Dante hurried eagerly to the door, but paused before she opened it. "You know it's a secret, right? Me and Gwaine...we don't want anyone to know just yet."

"I know, Milady. And I understand," Kahlee assured her. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Then you're a star."

Kahlee grinned at her. "I'm sorry? What was that? Could you speak up a little?"

"Yeah alright, don't gloat."

"I'm not gloating, Milady. I'm just...savouring the moment."


	23. The Picnic

**Author Note:** **Hey everyone! Here's another quick author note for you all, lol. All I want to say, basically is 1. Thank you everyone for the reviews, they are fab, as always, and I love reading your thoughts and ideas. And 2. Please bare with me towards the middle of this chapter. Trying to describe what it feels like to run is NOT easy, lol...so I've given it my best shot, based on how I feel when I run. So yeah, if it doesn't exactly make sense, then I'm sorry.**

**Also, the part about the round table, I have only guessed at, based on pictures I've seen from what has so far been released of the Series 5 pics, so if it turns out to be wrong in the end...well, who cares, lol. It's a story, and I'm allowed poetic licence, hehe...or is it artistic licence? I can never remember which one it is for writing? And as everyone knows that Arthur has his Knights of the Round Table, it's not exactly a spoiler, so you don't need to worry, hehe.**

**Anyways enough of my rambling...review and enjoy as always :D**

...

She'd been staring at him all afternoon and STILL couldn't take her eyes off him. The pair of them were sitting in a small meadow of new grass that had been revealed as the snow slowly melted away. Beside them was a lake, and above them, the canopy of trees parted just enough to let in a few gentle streams of sunshine.

Dante and Gwaine were now basking in this sunlight whilst their horses grazed contentedly nearby. It was a beautiful day, and after meeting up with Gwaine outside the city gates, they'd ridden for most of the afternoon, before he'd finally announced that they were in the 'perfect' spot, and had laid down a blanket and the small pack he'd strapped to the back of his saddle. Inside, there was everything you could possibly need for a picnic, including sandwiches, fresh fruit, cheese, cold meats and even a bottle of wine with two glasses.

He'd told her that he'd already had the picnic packed and ready since his patrol that morning, where he'd spotted this place and known straight away that it would be the perfect spot to bring her. But he'd worried that Arthur may spoil the day by holding her in 'political talks' all afternoon and all evening too. Still, he didn't need to worry now, because she was all his, and they had forever.

Or until tomorrow morning, at least.

So here they were now, several hours later, the food and drink had gone (save for a few crumbs and crusts of bread) and a peaceful quiet had settled between them.

Lush grasses sprinkled with flowers of all colours and shapes graced the hilly meadow around them, now that the snow had all but vanished, and beyond the meadow's borders, shining waterfalls spilled into the lake. Petals from a nearby cherry blossom floated by on the warm breeze, and puffy clouds drifted across the shining blue sky above. It was a place full of life and full of love, full of warmth and full of softness.

To Dante Quincailan, it was a place perfectly reflective of Gwaine Keincaled.

Gringolet and Vixen grazed contentedly nearby, seemingly oblivious to the couple as they searched for the juiciest patches of grass around the lake, and insects buzzed about in the air, too busy with the flowers to take any time to bother them, either.

Gwaine was lying on his back, one arm folded casually behind his head, his eyes closed and his breathing measured and even. Dante wasn't sure if he was asleep, or just very relaxed, but she decided not to disturb him, either way.

Instead, she sat next to him, absently picking flowers, bringing them up to deeply inhale their sweet scents, then sitting them on the blanket by her side so that she could keep them and take them back to her room later.

Every so often, she'd glance over at Gwaine, but only briefly, almost afraid to let him notice, even though his eyes were closed. He was thoroughly enjoying this sunshine, and had stripped off every layer on the upper half of his body, so that now he lay bare chested, soaking up the sun's rays. As he breathed, the muscles across his abdomen danced and rippled smoothly, and although Dante was enjoying the afternoon sun, and would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm her face, she stayed curled up, her chin resting on her knees instead, unwilling to take her eyes off him. The wind was gentle – it tangled her hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around them.

Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, too beautiful to be real...hesitantly, she reached out one finger and stroked the back of his hand, where it lay within her reach. She marvelled at how rough and calloused it was, and yet he was able to be so gentle and tender with her that it seemed almost impossible. When she looked up again, his eyes were open, watching her, and his quick smile turned up the corners of his lips.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. "I can see it in your eyes. You're trying to work something out. What has you so puzzled?"

"It's just something Kahlee said to me earlier," she shrugged eventually, tracing patterns across the back of his hand lightly.

"Kahlee? Your maid?"

So quickly that she missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on his right arm, his left palm still in her hands. His face was only a few inches away from hers and she should have flinched away from his unexpected closeness, but suddenly found she was unable to move. His mahogany eyes mesmerized her.

"Yeah," she said eventually, forcing herself to speak once more. "She said that I tend to say things best when I DON'T say them. I'm trying to work out if that's a good thing."

His answering smile was dazzling.

"Of course it's a good thing. And I agree with her."

"It's a good thing?" she frowned.

"It's easy for someone to say something," he shrugged, in explanation. "For example, I could say that I'm a rabbit. Just because I've said it, doesn't mean it's true. But when you don't say something - when you SHOW it instead...that has meaning. So much more meaning than words ever could."

"I never thought of it like that," she replied, surprised. "And yet now that I do, it makes perfect sense."

"You think too much about everything," he scolded playfully, lifting his other hand and ruffling her hair. A shock ran through her body at his casual touch.

"Well I have to, because you never think at all," she retorted, equally as playfully, and he ruffled her hair again, causing her to squirm and giggle.

"It's true what she says though," he said again after a moment - clearly he'd been considering, and had finally come to some sort of conclusion.

"Define," Dante said, though not in a demanding or unkind way - her tone was more curious than anything else, and he smiled.

"Well, the smile on your face lets me know that you need me," He said gently, reaching up to trace across her lips with one finger of his free hand. "There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me." His fingers moved ever so carefully to stroke beneath one eye. "The touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever I fall." Now his hand moved down to sandwich hers between both of his. "So you see, Kahlee's right. You DO say it best, when you say nothing at all."

"Oh," was all she managed to say then, too mesmerised was she in his touch, and his words. Frozen in place, almost afraid to move and spoil the moment. And then he reached up and ruffled her hair yet again, breaking her from her trance.

She laughed and attempted to once again straighten her hair and he appeared to study her - almost like he was seeing her for the first time.

"You are incredibly beautiful, you know?" he said after a while, allowing his hand to drop back to his side again.

"Yeah right," she laughed incredulously, thinking that he was joking, or making fun of her.

"No really, I mean it," he insisted earnestly. "And the sun is especially kind to you. The way your cheeks colour when you blush, the way your hair lightens when the sun hits it just right, the flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretences...the sparkle of your eyelids – like you're wearing a very delicate and glittery eye shadow..."

"My eyelids sparkle?" she asked, surprised, raising a finger to tenderly probe one eye, as if expecting to feel something there.

"Like the stars," he smiled one of his dreamy smiles. "But only in the sun. And only since you started wearing my ring."

"The ring makes me sparkle?" She frowned, looking down and examining Gwaine's impromptu engagement ring on her finger.

"Must be the magic in it. Your scar sparkles too. But it's not glaringly obvious. You have to look closely to see anything. It's gentle. Like a finishing touch." Then as an afterthought he added, "You should walk in the sun more often. You're far too pale, even for a noble."

"I'm not pale," she protested. "I glow in the dark!"

Again, he had to laugh out loud. Their eyes met and she laughed too. And finally, she allowed herself to lay back in the grass, staring up at him, their roles now reversed with him sitting over her, staring at her.

"Remind me again why I have to keep you a secret?" she asked eventually, resting one hand behind her head, the other still holding lightly on to his.

His smile faded. "You know why."

"No, I mean why can't people know that we are in love?" She reiterated, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. "They must have suspected it for a while now. I mean, we were engaged at one point, and you blatantly defied the King, just to save my life. If that's not shouting out that we're in love, then short of hanging a banner across the Citadel announcing it to the world...well...even a blind man could see the way we feel about one another. Why deny it?"

"Dante, we've been through this already," he sighed, placing his hand gently on the side of her face. "I love you," he said. "But I will not have my love ruined by the rumours and lies that will undoubtedly spread when people assume that I am with you for your status and your power."

She wanted to protest. She wanted to deny his words. But she couldn't. Because deep down she knew that he was right.

He said nothing further about it then, letting the subject drop. Instead he smiled gently, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. Then, very slowly he leaned down towards her, adjusting his pose so that now he was lying beside her, propped up on one elbow, his other hand still resting on her cheek. She was quite unable to move, even if she'd wanted to.

"Why can't we just stay here forever?" she asked quietly, still gazing up at him as he shifted slightly, blocking the sun from her face so that she didn't have to squint.

"Duty calls," he sighed. "But not until tomorrow morning. We have all evening, my love. And all night as well...if you'd like?"

They stared at each other for a moment, before Dante smiled up at him, giving all the confirmation he needed. He mirrored her smile and laid back down again. This time it was Dante's turn to move as she laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

And they lay like that for what felt like an eternity, Dante wondering if Gwaine was as unwilling to move as she was. But all too soon, she could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch them, and she sighed.

"We should be getting back," he spoke, and she could hear his voice reverberating deep down in his chest. It was odd, but at the same time deeply comforting.

"Oh, so you're a mind reader now?" she teased, reluctant to get up.

"Sometimes." Now she could hear the smile in his voice.

Eventually he let her go and stood. Before she'd even realised what was happening, he'd packed away the picnic things and was standing over her, satchel hanging from the crook of one elbow, his other hand extended towards her. She took it and allowed him to pull her gently to her feet.

"So," he asked casually as they started to walk back in the direction of the Citadel, hand in hand - Vixen and Gringolet meandering along leisurely behind, prompted by a soft whistle from Gwaine. "Are you still as fast as I remember? Or have you gotten slow in your old age?"

"In my old age?" Dante repeated, feigning insult. "You could never catch me when we were younger, and I bet you still couldn't catch me now!"

"Prove it," he dared, and there was a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'll give you a race, if you like?"

"I don't think so," she retorted. "Not very ladylike."

"Only because you're afraid of being beaten."

"Ha! Only in your deluded dreams!" She backtracked a few steps so that she was in line with him. "Very well, Keincaled! But if this goes badly, I'm holding you personally responsible...twice!"

"Duly noted," he grinned. They stood there for several tense seconds as Gwaine tied the satchel back onto Gringolet's saddle, whilst Dante tried to psych herself up, even though she knew she was doomed to lose, before she'd even begun. Because Gwaine was right. She had gotten slow. She was out of shape and out of practice, and she honestly could not remember the last time she'd run...well, not unless you counted the time Lot had set his dogs upon her. But then she'd been scrambling and clawing her way up embankments, over hills, through valleys...it hadn't been running so much as surviving.

Still, never one to refuse a challenge, she rose onto the balls of her feet, bobbing up and down slightly, her fists clenching and unclenching in anticipation, ready to explode forwards when Gwaine gave the signal. He eyed her with great amusement for several seconds longer, before suddenly shouting "Go!"

He leapt forwards, Gringolet and Vixen blurred past at an easy gallop, and Dante tried to keep up, but her feet slipped in the leaves and dirt, her foot hit a rock and she could feel herself falling, knowing it was all going to end in the disaster she had been dreading. Gwaine was already streaking ahead, almost out of sight amongst the trees. Her heart leaped as she fell...

And the world appeared to snap around her.

Her other foot landed squarely on top of a rock she hadn't even known was there, and her whole body woke up, tingling all over. Adrenaline flooded her like the heat of alcohol on an empty stomach. It burst through her, and the jewellery she was wearing - Morgana's pendant, Hunith's necklace and Gwaine's ring - all dilated to points of heat, as if they were melting against her skin.

And then she realised that this was like nothing she'd ever felt before. There was just her and the sound of the wind in her ears mixing with the pounding of her pulse. As adrenaline fully kicked in, she found that all of a sudden she was no longer thinking. Her body was doing all the thinking for her, leaping like a gazelle over fallen logs, ducking under low branches and sailing across the leaf littered forest floor as she danced between the trees.

And the one thought on her mind was _please don't let this stop! Let me keep going!_

To her side, a pale shape blurred in a very distorted outline, unfocussed because of the speed. It took her a moment to realise it must be Gwaine, and then she was wondering if he'd dropped back to give her a chance, or if she'd actually somehow miraculously managed to catch him on her own.

And then the world faded around her and there was just movement, force and reaction spilling through her arms and legs, hands like birds, feet like a horse's hooves.

Coming out of the forest, they crested a hill, and the world was spinning under her. She didn't have to move forward, just put her feet down every now and again to touch it. A fierce joy flushed through her and she pushed even harder.

Eventually, however, the force bled away and it got harder and harder to keep up with the world. She pushed herself harder and harder, but eventually the world snapped back to normal, the shapes unblurred around her and she saw that she'd reached the last hill before the city gates. And there, waiting patiently at the bottom of the hill, a few metres away, was Gwaine, standing with Gringolet and Vixen, and looking extremely impressed.

Her legs buckled and she landed hard on her knees, jarring them sharply. But she didn't notice through the retching. Gwaine walked over to her and knelt beside her, patting her back sympathetically. He was hardly out of breath at all – the git!

Her legs were on fire. All of her was hurting and her back was a solid bar of pain. But it didn't matter. What mattered was Gwaine beside her, rubbing her back and laughing more than she'd ever heard him laugh before.

"Well. You kept up," he congratulated. "I guess I was wrong about you, after all."

She eventually managed to get some breath back. "When...can we...do that...again?"

At that, his laughter only increased, even as she retched some more. But the merriment cancelled out the pain, and it didn't matter how much it hurt, or how her heart felt like it was trying to climb out of her throat. All that mattered was Gwaine beside her, making small circles on her back, his face alight.

"How do you feel?" he asked after a moment, when she'd finally stopped retching.

She couldn't be sure how she felt when her head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy...I think..." she managed to choke out, eventually, her chest still heaving from the exertion.

"Put your head between your knees."

She tried that, and it helped a little. She was able to breathe again, at least. He continued to rub her back gently until finally, she found she was once more able to raise her head. There was a hollow ringing sound in her ears, so she closed her eyes until it had subsided.

"I was thinking, while I was running," he mused as he sat beside her.

"About?" She gasped, still fighting to get her breathing back to normal.

He took her face very gently in his hands. "About us. And how much I want to do this."

For the second time in as many minutes, she couldn't breathe.

He hesitated, then leaned forward slowly, his lips pressing very gently against hers. She returned the kiss eagerly, despite how out of breath she still was. And then they parted as finally, she just had to resurface for air, before she passed out.

As she blinked away the last few moments of dizziness and looked up again, she saw that he was on his feet once more, in one of those lithe, elegant movements so uncharacteristic of a man with his muscular build. He held out his hand to her once more and she took it, needing the support more than she'd first thought. Her balance had not yet returned.

"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How light-hearted, he seemed as he laughed then, his face untroubled. He was a completely different Gwaine than the one she'd known when she'd first come to Camelot. And she felt all the more besotted by him. It would cause her physical pain to be separated from him now.

"I can't be sure. I'm still woozy," she managed to respond. "I think it's some of both, though."

"My dear little Vixen," he chuckled. Then he glanced towards the Citadel casting its shadows down over them, from the hill above. "We should go back before they lock the doors. We'd have fun explaining THAT, if we got locked out."

"Considering we're both supposed to be inside anyway," she agreed. "But you really should put some clothes on. Otherwise rumours WILL fly, no matter how hard we try to keep this a secret."

"Good point," he acknowledged, casting about suddenly for his clothes. Then he blushed. "Ah."

"You left them in the meadow, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question, but he found himself nodding anyway.

"Quite possibly."

"Then you'd better be careful no-one sees you inside the castle. You'll have to wait till morning to go back for them. It's too dark now."

"I'll be careful," he promised, and she nodded, starting to walk towards the gatehouse leading into the lower town.

"Well, if you're sure you won't get caught...? I'm not getting into trouble. Not even for you."

"I promise, I won't get caught," he assured her, matching her pace perfectly as he strode beside her. With another soft whistle, Gringolet and Vixen came trotting after them like a pair of overgrown dogs. Though, of course, being a horse person, Gwaine held more love for the pair than he'd EVER hold for any kind of dog, and somehow the horses knew it.

...

Despite his promise that nothing was going to happen, however, Gwaine had not bargained on Sir Leon waiting for them at the top of the steps in the courtyard of the Citadel. He came hurrying down as they wandered in, hand in hand.

Seeing him, they immediately let go and stepped apart, moving to take the reins of their respective horses instead, but Leon didn't have time to notice - or if he did, he made no acknowledgement of what he'd seen.

"Milady, Arthur's looking for you! He's had people searching everywhere!"

"Why, what is it? What's happened?" Dante asked, sensing the urgency in Leon's tone, and not liking the sound of it. Something must have happened.

"An emergency meeting has been called. Invaders have taken several kingdoms to the east and a few to the south. They're marching on Camelot, even as we speak."

"What?" Dante and Gwaine gasped in unison. They shared a quick glance and saw clearly the look of concern mirrored in the other's eyes. Then Gwaine reached across and took Vixen's reins.

"Go," he told her softly. "Your services are needed."

"But what about - " she started to protest. Gwaine shook his head.

"I'll see you tonight," he promised her quietly. "Now go. Arthur needs you."

Realising she could waste no more time, and knowing that Leon would get suspicious if she continued talking to Gwaine in hushed tones, she gave up and turned away from Gwaine, forcing herself not to look back as Leon escorted her back into the Citadel, whilst Gwaine headed towards the stables with the two horses.

...

"If you two are going for subtlety and secrecy, you might want to try a little harder," Leon spoke quietly as the pair of them wove through the packed corridors and hallways. It seemed that the whole citadel had come alive, all of a sudden, with people rushing here and there in a state of panic. However, seeing the tall knight striding through with his scarlet cape billowing behind him, they quickly moved to get out of his way. Dante had no trouble striding by his side.

"You won't say anything, will you?" she asked worriedly. "We thought it would be best that people didn't know just yet, in case they thought Gwaine was only with me for my new power and status."

"My lips are sealed," Leon assured her as he turned down a side hallway that was surprisingly deserted. "Though by the sounds of it, this will soon be the least of anyone's worries."

"Is it really that bad?"

"I don't know. Arthur refused to get the meeting underway until you were present," Leon admitted, holding a door open for her. Dante stepped through and found herself in the throne room. This startled her a bit, as she had never known about this entrance until now, but then she decided it was hardly the time to complain to Leon, as all eyes turned in her general direction.

The first thing she noticed about the room was that the usually empty expanse that took up most of the room was now filled with a round table, made of solid polished oak and adorned in the centre with the golden Pendragon sigil. It was large enough to seat twenty people comfortably, at least, and these seats were already filled by the various heads of the kingdoms surrounding Camelot including, Dante was horrified to see, King Lot.

"What is HE doing here?" She growled, completely forgetting her manners, or the fact that there were currently five Kings and three Queens in the room with her.

Arthur cleared his throat and stood. "Lords and Ladies, may I present to you Dante Quincailan, First Lady of the Court of Camelot."

Her manners finally catching up with her mouth, Dante blushed and offered a curtsey to the entire table.

A mature looking woman with ginger hair began to laugh, as did the young brunette woman next to her.

"Someone else who shares our dislike of our neighbour from Essetir," she chuckled.

"With good reason, Majesty," Dante replied, forcing herself to remain polite, even though she had no idea who she was talking to. "You know he's in league with Morgana?"

_And that's the pot calling the kettle black! _She thought wryly. Though she kept that particular thought to herself, somehow, even though apparently her mouth was currently functioning of its own accord, completely separate to her brain.

"On the contrary," Lot snarled, glaring at her, clearly thinking along the same lines. "I was merely using Morgana for my own ends. Now I find myself no longer in need of her services."

"That's not what it looked like in Ealdor!"

"Yes, we've heard all about your little 'disagreement' in Ealdor," the mature woman nodded, glaring at Lot. "Still, he has promised us all that he is on his best behaviour..."

"And I mean it, Annis," Lot replied in his usual deep, throaty growl, playing the perfect gentleman - to Dante's disgust. He had creep written all over him, and she was sorely tempted to pull a dagger and slit his throat there and then. But reminding herself that this was neither the time, nor the place, she turned to the woman instead. He'd called her Annis. Was this who she was thinking it could well be?

"Queen Annis?" She ventured cautiously. The woman smiled and stood, nodding her head.

"Annis, Queen of Caerleon and ally to Arthur Pendragon," she spoke confidently, offering Arthur a pleasant smile that suggested to Dante there was some history between them. And Dante knew there was. She also knew that Morgana had tried to meddle in their affairs, and failed.

Then as she sat back down again, the young woman to her left stood up. "Mithian, Princess of Nemeth and ally to Arthur Pendragon." Again, Dante knew the history between Mithian and Arthur - though only Morgana's version, where she turned Gwen into a deer and Mithian shot her with an arrow. The fact that she and Gwen were currently sitting side by side, however, told Dante that Gwen had forgiven the unknowing Princess and felt no hard feelings towards her. Either that, or she was just putting on a brave face for the rest of the assembled group. And if Mithian felt any jealousy or resentment to the former serving girl, she was doing a good job of hiding it, too.

To Gwen's right was Arthur, and then next to him an older man with a bushy beard and keen eyes. He stood as Mithian sat down, and bowed his head to Dante.

"Bayard, King of Mercia. A pleasure to meet you, Your Ladyship." Dante returned a bow of her own, remembering the stories she had heard of Bayard. This time it had not been Morgana who had meddled in his affairs, but rather Nimueh, one of Morgana's predecessors of the Old Religion.

The man beside him rose, too. "Odin, King of Bernicia."

Dante frowned without meaning to. Odin and Arthur were supposedly sworn enemies, weren't they? And yet here they were now, on civilised terms. Things must be bad if Arthur was prepared to put aside his quarrels with both Lot AND Odin, in light of a common goal. And for them to agree to work with him, also...well, that was just as unexpected!

Beside Odin was Lot, who didn't even bother to stand and introduce himself, and then beside Lot was another dark haired man whom she did not recognize. He rose gracefully and bowed his head to her, though he kept his keen, dark eyes upon her at all times.

"Mark, King of Cornwall," he announced in a velvet voice that sent a shiver down her spine. Mark was the only one who sat at this round table who she knew nothing about, and she was not sure if this was a good thing or not. And not only that, but Cornwall was a long way from Camelot. The others hadn't had to travel much more than a few days at most to get here. Mark would have had to travel for a few weeks, at least. Things must be REALLY bad then.

"A pleasure to meet you all," she smiled, fighting back her nerves once again. What a time for them to attack! Seeing her uneasiness, Arthur stood.

"Here, take a seat, Dante. Join us."

Before she could protest, however, Lot beat her to it. With a snort of amusement, he glanced at Dante, then said aloud to the room, "The girl was my slave for eight years, Arthur! Let her stand for a few hours. It won't kill her!"

Well, at least he'd remembered her cover story then. That was good, even if he had tried to kill her.

"May I have permission to punch him, Sire?" She asked Arthur, causing a roar of laughter from the room's other occupants. And it was only then that she noticed those sat at the round table were not the only occupants of the room. All around the outside, standing or sitting in seats against the walls were several Lords, Ladies, Knights, Council members and servants alike.

"Oh Arthur, I like her!" Annis chuckled as Dante moved over to Merlin, Kahlee and Tamina.

"I'll stand over here," she mouthed to Arthur as the laughter continued.

"Nobles are over there, Milady," Merlin muttered into her ear, nodding to the other side of the room, where indeed, the nobles were standing. But Dante shrugged.

"They may well be. But my friends are over here."

Merlin grinned, as did Kahlee and Tamina, and after settling back against the wall, arms folded across her chest in a very unladylike manner, Dante nodded at Arthur. Apparently this had been the signal he'd been patiently waiting for, because finally he started the meeting.


	24. Discovery

**Author Note: Ok, I have to admit I'm very much hooked on the Olympics at the moment, and I find myself watching sports I'd never dream of watching in a million years! Which is probably why I haven't updated as much as I probably could have done over the weekend, for which I apologise. Still...here's a nice little cliffhanger for you to enjoy, mwahahaha.**

**Oh, and on a side note...would anybody be interested in reading an Olympics style Merlin story? Perhaps with the characters in the modern day? Or maybe even back in Camelot's time, they had an Olympic tournament...who'd be interested? Just so I get a rough idea before I start writing it. No point me wasting time on it, if there's going to be no interest in it, after all.**

**Let me know, because I can see the potential for the story already...but is it something you Merlin fans want to read?**

**...**

If anyone asked Dante after the meeting what it was about, Dante would have liked to say that she paid close attention to what was said, and could repeat everything back, word for word. But this would simply not be the truth.

She had paid attention at first - enough to get the general gist that Saxon invaders had crossed the seas and were storming their way across the country, through every kingdom that stood in their way, but after Lot and Odin got into a row over who's kingdom was more at risk of invasion, and then Annis and Lot had a row over his treatment of everyone, and then Mark demanded that Sir Tristan be delivered to his chambers for what he called 'retribution' (considering Tristan was his nephew who had also stolen his wife Isolde)...well, things started to get out of hand then, and whilst it was amusing to watch the Royals bicker and argue like a group of children, Dante really lost all interest in the political side of things.

All she could think about was Gwaine, and how she could be doing better things with her time right now, than standing here watching a group of stuck up royals argue over things that weren't even relevant, considering the reason they had all gathered in the first place.

Beside her, Merlin let out a heavy sigh. She glanced at him and grinned. "You look how I feel."

"Bored stiff?" he offered, and she nodded. Then she leaned her head back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes, wondering if she'd be able to catch a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep before anyone even noticed and woke her again.

How long she actually managed to stay like this for, she wasn't entirely sure, but after what felt like only a few seconds, there was the sound of a door being thrown open and a voice suddenly rang out through the room. "Outriders have crossed the border!"

There was what felt like a lifetime of silence then, but in reality it could only have been a fraction of a second, if that.

"What?" Arthur demanded into the silence, and then there was movement, the sound of several chairs scraping back simultaneously as the other Royals jumped to their feet, and several voices calling out simultaneously, demanding to know what was going on. Dante's eyes snapped open again in time to see all hell break loose within the small room.

"Sound the alarms!" Arthur ordered to no-one in particular. Several of the servants jumped to do his bidding immediately. Merlin hurried to Arthur's side as he began to issue other orders, for the women, children and elderly to be brought into the citadel, and for the armies to be assembled.

Kahlee took her gently by the arm, finally catching her attention. "Milady, we should go back to your quarters. We'll be safe there."

"No, " Dante argued. "Arthur will need every able bodied fighter - regardless of gender."

"But look what happened last time you fought alongside Arthur! Please, Milady...stay safe this time? Besides, you'll be needed here!"

"Kahlee, I...I can't..." Dante started, torn and uncertain as she watched Arthur and the other Kings hurry off to assemble their men and don their armour. The Queens, Princess Mithian and the other ladies of the court had gathered in a corner, babbling animatedly about something or other, but making no move to follow the men. Dante was a woman...she shouldn't be fighting, and yet deep down, she so desperately wanted to. Almost as if she needed to prove to herself that she COULD still fight.

It was comparable to falling from a horse. if you didn't get straight back up and into the saddle again, you lost your nerve, and would most likely never go near another horse for the rest of your life. That was how Dante was feeling now. If she didn't pick up her swords and use them again, she'd live in fear of them for the rest of her life. Maybe to others, this wasn't such a bad thing...but to Dante...growing up in a man's world, her whole life had included swords and weaponry in some form or another. She couldn't lose her nerve now. She just couldn't!

"Lady Dante, please!" Kahlee begged, not understanding. "Stay! Guinevere will need your help and guidance, now more than ever."

"She's got Annis and Mithian, she doesn't need me!" Dante called over her shoulder as she headed for the door, having finally made up her mind. Kahlee ran to catch up, in time to hear Dante speak again. "My father once taught me that those who have the ability to act, have the responsibility to act."

"You don't have the ability!" Kahlee protested, knowing full well by now that her protests were falling on deaf ears. But she still had to try.

"I have armour, I have a sword - actually I have two - and I have the knowledge of how to use them. THAT gives me the ability. Therefore I have the responsibility to use those things to my advantage - in this instance helping Arthur to drive out the invaders."

"No matter what I say, you're still going aren't you."

"Absolutely."

Kahlee groaned, then jogged up beside Dante, quickening her pace to match her Mistress'. "Well then wait up. You'll need help with your armour."

...

The leather vest that Dante had worn in Ealdor had been ruined beyond all repair and under orders from Gaius, Merlin had burned it as soon as the knights had returned her to Camelot in the sorry state that she'd been in at the time.

The chainmail shirt had not been quite so unsalvageable, however, and with a few new links of metal to repair the gash across the chest, and a polish to clean it of the blood and rust that had accumulated since the last time she'd worn it, it now look good as new again. This was what she donned now, along with the engraved belt and buckle, the silver gauntlets and the gloves - effectively hiding Gwaine's ring (and her undying love for him) from the world. The engraved knife that had adorned the boot of her right foot had been lost in Ealdor, so she was forced to replace it - for now at least - with a cheap, nasty, simple blade stolen from the armoury. Still, if she was going to battle, anything was better than nothing.

She debated whether to acquire a helmet, in order to disguise herself, although it was unlikely that Arthur would be able to ignore her feminine curves, even in chainmail. He'd know it was her, with or without a helmet. But even so, a helmet would provide some small measure of protection in battle, so in the end she sent Kahlee to 'borrow' a helm and scarlet cloak from the knights barracks.

Some half hour later, when night had truly set in, she was about as ready as she'd ever be for the oncoming battle, and after finding Vixen in her stall and quickly making her ready, Dante rode out to stand beside the other mounted riders in the small section of Camelot's mounted cavalry.

Hidden within their ranks, she didn't feel quite so exposed. The darkness of the night and the borrowed cloak helped to hide her body and her feminine curves, the light wind puffed it out a little so that she looked more stocky and 'manly', and the helmet covered her face. Overall, Dante was surprised to discover that she could quite easily pass for a knight - aided greatly by the blue glow of the moonlight that distorted everything around her. Though whether this was a good thing or not, she couldn't decide. Still, as long as her disguise held up, Arthur may actually let her fight in this battle. She glanced down to where she'd carefully placed her short swords, sliding them between the leather straps on either side of the saddle, then she looked up again as Arthur strode from the Citadel, scarlet cloak billowing out behind him, helmet under one arm, armour gleaming in the moonlight.

Behind him came the other Kings - Lot in his leather armour and snake adorned tunic, a huge battle axe draped across one shoulder.

Bayard in his familiar blue tunic and chainmail, decorated long sword at his belt.

Mark of Cornwall in a rich emerald green tunic with shining gold armour and a spear and shield (the shield bearing his sigil - two golden spears crossed on a green background).

And Odin, dressed in black and gold decorated plate armour, a black cape fastened round his neck with two golden clasps in the shapes of fists. He was also carrying a shield, but had a very vicious looking maul in his other hand, rather than a sword or spear.

And then behind them came Annis, Mithian and Guinevere, each wearing the respective crowns of their kingdoms and dressed in their finest gowns as well as cloaks to keep them warm against the night wind that had picked up not long ago. Annis was wearing her wolf fur cloak, Mithian had a thick sheepskin cloak and Guinevere was wrapped in another of Arthur's scarlet cloaks.

Behind Gwen was Kahlee, hood raised to hide her face, playing the part of her mistress to keep up the deception until it was too late for anyone to protest. She had not liked the idea of deceiving Arthur or Gwen, but Dante had promised to take full responsibility, if she was caught, and had even given Kahlee a hefty bonus of gold coins that would easily see her struggling family through the next three winters, and then some.

Dante nodded ever so slightly to her, and Kahlee raised a hand ever so slightly in return - their own secret code, much like the one that Gwaine and Dante had developed as children.

Arthur and the other Kings swung into the saddles of their respective mounts, and then with shouts from the commanding officers, the entire army began to move out. The courtyard held merely Camelot's army, but once outside the lower town, the other armies - that had been waiting in their respective camps, occupying several of the fields around the city - began to filter and join and the grand army slowly swelled and doubled, then tripled in size. By the time they were out of sight of the city walls, the army was ten times larger than it had been to begin with, and Dante was with the mixed cavalry, up near the head of the army. She was just three rows behind Gwaine and the other Round Table Knights, and five horses behind Arthur himself.

How close she was to being discovered, and yet she didn't care. She was feeling a sudden buzz of adrenaline, and an excitement that - for the moment - cancelled out the fear of the coming battle. Vixen appeared to sense her rider's excitement and picked up her feet, trotting beautifully beside the other horses. One of Bayard's men rode to her left, and nodded at her once, in approval. Odin's man to her right also nodded and said "beautiful creature."

"Isn't she just," Dante replied, doing her best to mimic a deep voice that she hoped would pass for a man's. If Odin's knight suspected anything, he never let on, but she made a mental note from that point on, not to speak unless she absolutely had to.

...

When they reached the hill before the plains where the Saxons were supposedly camped for the night, Arthur called a halt to his army and sent a few scouts ahead to survey the situation. Whilst they waited in silence for the scouts to return, Arthur rode amongst the men, offering quiet words of encouragement or praise. As he approached Dante, she kept her helmeted head angled away from him, on the pretence of studying the stars above. The wind had died down now, however, and whilst the cloak still draped over her shoulders and hid her body, there was no denying that she was slim and small compared to the knights around her, even in the moonlight.

"Dante," Arthur spoke lightly, almost casually, as he rode up in front her. "You can take off that helmet now."

At first she pretended not to know what he was talking about and just ignored him, looking around her under the pretence of wondering who he was talking to.

"Dante," he said more forcefully this time, looking straight at her, and she could see the look on his face clearly in the moonlight. She sighed, knowing that now was not the time to mess around.

Reluctantly she reached up and pulled the helmet from her head, allowing her sweaty brown hair to tumble about her shoulders. Several quiet gasps erupted from those around her, and finally a wave of hushed whispers carried all the way through the rest of the army, so that within ten minutes of her revealing herself, every single man in the assembled army knew that there was a lady amongst them. And not just any lady, either. Camelot's First Lady...second only in power to the ruling monarchs. From somewhere up ahead, Gwaine was standing and turning in his saddle, giving her an incredulous look. She chose to ignore him in case she lost her nerve, and turned back to Arthur instead.

"You knew me?" She asked curiously. "And still you let me ride?"

"You'd have come whether I let you or not," Arthur shrugged. "So I thought I'd save myself the trouble of the argument and let you come this far. But I'm afraid THIS is where your journey ends. I cannot let you come any further."

"But Arthur - "

"No buts, Dante. Be grateful I let you come this far."

"Arthur please, let me stay. Let me fight!"

"Don't make me have you escorted home in chains, Dante, because that is what I'll do, if that's what it takes. Now, you have five minutes to turn your horse round and ride home again, or I will have Percival and Leon literally drag you back, instead. The choice is yours."

With that threat hanging in the air, he rode off back to join the other kings at the front. Dante groaned and thumped the pommel of her saddle with a clenched fist, causing Vixen to snort and stamp one foot. Dante reached down and patted her neck soothingly, then glanced to the army all around her. Every single man was looking in her direction, some craning their necks and standing in their saddles to get a better look.

She seriously felt like sitting here amongst them stubbornly and making Arthur keep to his promise about having Leon and Percival drag her home. But then she knew that Arthur WOULD keep to his promise. His word was his bond and if he said he'd have her returned to Camelot in chains, he would have her returned in chains. And that would just be humiliating.

If she rode now, she saved face, and Arthur knew it.

"Well played, Arthur...well played," she grumbled as she turned Vixen and started off out of the line of knights she'd been standing with. With one last glance back towards Arthur, who nodded once - a simple gesture that resonated so many meanings - she dug her heels into Vixen's sides a little harder than she'd meant to, and galloped off back down the centre of the army, men staring at her in awe as she thundered past, mahogany hair and scarlet cape billowing out behind her.

...

At the head of the army, Arthur watched Dante go curiously. She'd given in too easily for his liking.

All his instincts were telling him that she was up to something.

So he summoned Merlin forward on his plucky little one-eyed pony.

"Follow her," he told his faithful servant. "Make sure she gets back to Camelot safely."

"But what about you?" Merlin asked, reluctant to leave his master's side.

"What about me, Merlin? I'm a big boy now, I don't need you to hold my hand," Arthur snapped, suddenly embarrassed as the other kings let out chuckles of amusement.

"But what if you get hurt?" Merlin protested, not picking up on his hint.

"This is war Merlin. People are going to get hurt. People are going to die. Having you by my side is not going to change that. Besides..."

He steered his horse away from the others out of earshot. Merlin followed, having to lean in close as Arthur lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Dante gave in too easily when I sent her away. She's up to something and I don't trust her not to try and sneak into the back of the army when I'm not looking. If anything happens to her now, I will never forgive myself." He glanced back to the Round Table Knights. "My men would never forgive me either. You've seen the way they treat her - she's like a sister to them. Go with her and make sure she gets back to Camelot unharmed - for their sake, if not mine."

Seeing that Merlin was about to protest again, Arthur held up a gloved finger to silence him, before deciding to elaborate further. "Merlin, what I'm about to tell you, nobody else knows just yet, and it needs to stay that way to avoid a panic, is that understood?"

Merlin nodded, suddenly both curious and alarmed by Arthur's tone. "What is it?"

"Well..." Arthur looked around to make sure they were well out of earshot of everyone else. "Saxon riders have been spotted further inside Camelot already. They have a firmer hold over our kingdom that anyone truly knows. I've just sent Dante back through these lands..._alone_. Can you now see where I'm going with this?"

"Oh," Was all Merlin could say. But Arthur could see that he'd made his point. He reached over and clapped Merlin on the shoulder with one gloved hand.

"Don't worry about me, Merlin. I've got a whole army to protect me. Dante has no-one."

"I'd best get going then," Merlin nodded, resisting the urge to rub his now throbbing shoulder. Arthur really didn't know his own strength sometimes! As the warlock turned his horse on the spot, he glanced back at Arthur.

"Good luck out there."

"You too, Merlin."

The two friends shared the briefest of smiles, each knowing full well that this could potentially be the last time they ever saw one another. Then, simultaneously, they dug their heels into the sides of their respective mounts and galloped off in opposite directions to fulfil their respective duties in the oncoming battle.

...

Merlin waited until he was far enough from the back of the army before he used a spell to highlight the First Lady's path. After all, tracking her in the dark would be near impossible otherwise.

A trail of glittering blue mist hung in the air, highlighting the trail and confirming Merlin's guess that Dante was wearing the enchanted sapphire somewhere about her person. He was extremely grateful for this as his spell would have failed otherwise, and he'd have been left to track her in the dark. Finding a needle in a haystack would have been a piece of cake compared to THAT.

Now, however, he simply had to follow the glittering trail and it would lead him right to her.

He was surprised to see that Dante was in fact heading back for Camelot after all, and at no point did she even waver from the path. Hearing the first shouts and crashing noises from far off in the distance as the sun began to emerge on the horizon, Merlin knew that Arthur was putting part one of his plan into action.

Part one consisted of lining his army up within full view of the Saxons, stretching them along the full length of the hill and then encouraging them to shout and bash their shields. If all went to plan, the army would appear twice the size it actually was, and if it actually worked, the Saxons would be so intimidated by the army that they would retreat and flee without a single drop of blood ever being spilt.

If it didn't work, and the Saxons stubbornly remained, then part two would be to send an envoy to demand terms from the Saxon leader. If he could not be reasoned with, then Arthur would have no choice but to move on to part three - deploying the army and effectively starting a war with the invaders.

Merlin hoped it would never come to that, but these invaders were unknown to them. Would they choose to fight? Or would they choose to flee home again?

The shouts and crashes of weapons on shields grew louder with each passing second, and Merlin debated whether or not to turn back now and help Arthur, when all of a sudden the trail took an unexpected turn and he reined his horse to a halt.

"Wait a minute, that's not right," he muttered. "Camelot's not that way. Where's she going?"

The sounds behind him intensified, and now Merlin was torn. Arthur had given him a sworn duty to ensure that Dante returned safely to Camelot. He needed to follow her and see what she was up to, and where she was going. But Arthur was in grave danger, facing what now seemed to be an inevitable battle that, in all honesty, Merlin did not think that he could win. And what if Merlin returned too late and failed to protect the King? It was his destiny to protect Arthur, but how could he do that if he was too late?

It was in fact Dante who made his mind up for him. A twig snapping not too far ahead, followed by the sounds of footsteps told Merlin that she wasn't that far in front of him now. He'd somehow miraculously caught up.

Perhaps if he could stop her from doing whatever she was doing now, and get her to go back to Camelot quickly, then he could return to the battle and still be in time to save Arthur, if necessary.

Wasting no further time, he clicked his tongue softly and turned his horse to follow the designated path. Then he broke into a trot, not caring if Dante heard him now. He was just desperate to reach her quickly.

...

Tethering Vixen in her usual place outside Morgana's hovel, Dante removed the scarlet cloak, just as the heavens decided to open above them. Feeling nothing but sympathy for the poor mare as her mane already dripped with rainwater, Dante flung the cloak up and over the horse's back and neck, protecting her from the worst of the weather. Then giving Vixen an affectionate kiss on the muzzle and a quick pat on the neck, Dante ran for the relative cover of the hovel, disappearing inside just as Merlin arrived. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and had to stick around, just to make sure that he wasn't mistaken. Hanging back under the cover of a thick bush, he watched and waited, his fears for Arthur momentarily forgotten.

Meanwhile, inside the hovel, Dante dumped her helmet on the table and shook the rainwater from her eyes. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mistress," she said with her usual bow, dropping briefly to one knee before being given the signal to rise again.

"What news?" Morgana asked drowsily as she sat herself up in her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was not angry with Dante for disturbing her, as she would normally have been, because something in Dante's tone, and the distant sounds of shouting told her that something had happened.

"Saxons have crossed the borders into Camelot, so Arthur and a few of the other Kings have ridden to meet them," Dante told her now, confirming her suspicions.

"Other kings?" This part surprised the witch. She'd known that Arthur would be the first to act, of course, but she hadn't expected others to join him so soon. Was the situation really that bad?

"Four kings have ridden out with him to battle - Bayard of Mercia, Mark of Cornwall, Odin of Bernicia and our very own Git Face - "

She was interrupted briefly by Morgana's surprised laugh. "Git Face? I assume you mean Lot?"

"Of course."

"I like it. That should be his new name from now on. But forgive me, I have interrupted you. Please continue."

"Thank you, Milady. They have ridden out with Arthur and combined their armies with his, whilst Annis of Caerleon and Mithian of Nemeth have chosen to remain at Camelot, but have also added their own armies to Arthur's numbers. He has a total of at least twenty thousand strong now...but the Saxons still outnumber them at least three to one."

"The Knights of Camelot are the best in the Five Kingdoms. They can easily hold their own against such odds...but the rest?" Morgana mused, rising from her bed and taking the cloak draped across the end. Wrapping it about her shoulders, she moved over to a small chest in the very corner of the room and began to dig about within. "Annis has a mighty army, and Lot's rabble are commendable in a fight...but I still do not like the odds of success against an unknown foe such as the Saxons. I need to see Arthur."

"To see him? Or kill him?"

"Now is not the time for personal revenge, Lady Dante. These Saxons pose a threat to us all, and as much as it pains me to say it...Arthur is probably about the only person I know who stands even half a chance against them. But he'll need all the help he can get."

"He won't just let you casually walk into his camp. Regardless of your motives," Dante pointed out. "And besides, he's surrounded by twenty thousand men who probably hate you just as much as he does."

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out," Morgana retorted sarcastically. "I'm well aware that I'm not exactly going to be winning any popularity contests in the near future. Which is why I shall go in disguise. Just as you did, from the looks of things."

"It didn't work. I got found out."

"Yes, but Arthur still spoke to you, did he not? I just need enough time to get to Arthur, then it matters not whether I'm in disguise. One way or another, he WILL listen to what I have to say."

"And if he chooses not to accept your help?"

"Then that is his loss."

Morgana pulled out a sleek chainmail shirt from the very bottom of the chest. It was red with rust and age, and flakes of metal drifted to the floor as she held it up to examine it. With a quick spell, however, it was transformed back into a shining, silver shirt once more. As were the gauntlets, and thick scale belt that followed.

"Did you have a cloak?" Morgana asked as she laid her old armour on the table and picked up Dante's helm to examine.

"It's outside," Dante replied. "I'm afraid it's quite wet."

"No matter," Morgana shrugged. "Fetch it for me whilst I change, please."

"As you wish," Dante replied, bowing her head slightly as she turned for the door, surprised that Morgana had tagged 'please' onto the end of her demand. That was most unusual. Perhaps she was simply preparing herself for the manners she would have to unleash upon Arthur, if he was to listen to her proposition.

At least one mystery was now solved though, she thought wryly as she stepped out into the driving rain. She now knew where Morgana's illusive armour had vanished to.

Walking over to Vixen, she stroked the mare's muzzle again, and Vixen nudged her, trying to bury her head away from the rain.

"I'm sorry, girl," Dante sighed, pulling the cloak off her and sending a shower of droplets flying in all directions. "But the Lady has commanded. And what the Lady wants, the Lady gets."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" An incredulous voice snapped behind her, and gasping aloud, Dante drew the closest sword from the saddle, spinning on the spot and raising it, ready to attack if she needed to.

She didn't need to.

"Merlin? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I believe I asked you first," he glared, emerging from the bush he'd been hiding in. Then, before she could answer, he glanced at Morgana's hut, then back to the First Lady. "You're with Morgana, aren't you! All this time, you've been conspiring with her and playing us all for fools!"

"Merlin wait, you don't understand," Dante started quickly, trying to think of some way to talk herself out of this one.

"Don't I?" He challenged. "I know a traitor when I see one!"

And suddenly she felt her own anger rising. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her that way? She was Camelot's First Lady! He was nothing but a servant - and a foolish one at that.

"No, you don't," she said icily, advancing towards him a few steps. And to her surprise, he backed off a little, raising one hand in front of him. "Let me tell you how it is," she said, taking advantage of this as she continued to advance on him, pointing with one hand in the direction of the far off army, still shouting and beating out their war cries like the distant sounds of thunder.

"You hear that?" she asked, though it was a rhetorical question, because everyone could hear it. "That is the sound of Arthur and his men fighting for our very freedom! Fighting for OUR lives, to keep US from harm. You've seen the Saxon Horde. You can't deny that Arthur's outnumbered at least three to one. What chance does he stand against such odds?"

_He doesn't_, Merlin thought. But he refused to voice this aloud, because saying it aloud only made it true.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here," he countered instead.

"I'm here because Morgana can help us," Dante revealed finally. "When I heard you following me, I feared you were a Saxon, or a bandit, or some other unsavoury person. So I came to the forest to try and seek shelter. What I found instead was Morgana. And she's agreed to help us turn the tide of this war in our favour."

"She can't be trusted!" Merlin protested.

"She was once a beloved member of Camelot!" Dante challenged angrily. "Yet you all turned your backs on her when she needed you the most! Is it any wonder she hates you all?"

"I...she...It's not our fault!" Merlin stammered. "She made her own decisions. She chose to side with Arthur's enemies..."

"Because YOU made her! Imagine you had magic, Merlin! What would you do if you'd been in her position?"

"I would use my magic for good, the way it was meant to be used," he countered readily, as if he'd rehearsed that particular argument over and over.

"And what if that's all Morgana had wanted to do? What if, all she'd been looking for was a friend? Someone to help and to guide her?"

"She had friends," Merlin suddenly went on the defensive. Dante was wrong. Morgana had brought this all on herself.

"She did...and then one of them poisoned her!" She looked pointedly at him then, and he knew that Morgana had probably told her everything. After all, he wasn't believing for one second that this was the first time Morgana and Dante had ever met. It seemed like Kilgharra had been right all along. Dante WAS a traitor.

"If that's what you do to your friends, Merlin, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies!"

"You have no idea what I can do," he replied calmly, giving her an equally icy stare that actually sent a shiver down her spine. Or perhaps it was the rain that was making her cold.

Or maybe the sudden silence that had fallen.

Had he gone deaf?

No, when he shifted one foot, he could hear the ground moving beneath his feet. And the rain was still pounding down around them. Vixen was snorting and stamping one hoof.

Dante had frozen as well, equally as confused by the sudden lack of noise. "They've stopped," she breathed finally, and Merlin realised that this was the source of his confusion. The war cries had stopped, and everything had fallen silent.

"Do you think..." he started hopefully, glancing back at her.

But she didn't reply. She was staring at something over his shoulder. Feeling a sudden icy chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the rain, he turned very slowly to look behind him, and gulped.

"Do not move," the Saxon rider spoke in a very heavy accent, adjusting the huge war axe over his shoulder as his huge black mount snorted and pawed the ground, tossing it's head up and down. "You come with us now."


	25. Merlin and Dante Fight Back

**Author Note: Ok, I'll admit, I'm not sure how the Saxons will be portrayed in Merlin, so I've kinda gone for the more sterotypical version. Hopefully I do not offend anyone with this portrayal of them. And I have a surprise which you may or may not like, but more on that in the next chapter, mwahahaha.**

**So for now, read and enjoy as always, and keep those fab reviews coming :)**

**...**

All around them, even more Saxons emerged on similarly large black mounts, each dressed in leather and fur, and carrying cruel looking weapons capable of doing serious damage.

Dante glanced down at her short sword and decided that against this lot, it would be about as effective as a blade of grass. A quick glance in Vixen's general direction told her that there were at least two riders between her and her other sword, still where she'd left it, tucked into the leather strap of the saddle.

Reluctantly, she dropped the single sword at her feet and raised both hands in surrender.

Merlin backed towards her, his own hands rising in surrender as well. Without meaning to, he backed right into her, and she yelped slightly.

"Sorry," he muttered. And then, as one of the riders dismounted, passing his huge broadsword to a fellow comrade so that he now had both hands free, Merlin turned ever so slightly to Dante.

"You know what you were saying earlier, about if I had magic, what I would do with it?"

"Yeah," Dante nodded slightly, wondering what he was playing at. Now really was not the time to start arguing about that again.

"Well, I'd do this." He threw both hands out in front of him and the approaching Saxon was thrown back against a huge oak tree with a loud crash and splinter of wood. He groaned and slid to the floor unconscious as shards of bark rained down around him, and a thin trickle of blood slowly ran from one ear.

"Merlin!" Dante cried in amazement as the Saxons suddenly began to shout in rage, leaping from their saddles to assist their fallen comrade or attack the pair standing before them.

As Merlin threw even more of them back, away from himself and Dante with his magic, every now and then shouting _"Hleap on bæc,"_ to give power to his spells, Dante cast all around for some way to help him. Looping a toe under the blade of her dropped sword, she kicked it up and caught it deftly (a trick that Gwaine had once taught her, though she'd never dreamed it would ever come in very useful, until that moment) and instantly moved back to back with Merlin.

"You have magic?!" She gasped, still in shock and awe as he continued to blast away the Saxons, who stubbornly kept rising and coming back for more.

"You want to discuss this NOW?!" He snapped. Her reply was cut short as a Saxon brought his broadsword down in an overhead arc, aiming to cleave her in two with the sheer weight he was putting behind the swing. Dante instinctively held her sword up to block his attack, even though she knew it would be no good. The odds of a short sword coming away from a broadsword attack in one piece was a million to one, and the odds of Dante surviving the attack were even more outrageously weighed against her.

But this was without magic on her side.

_"Bregdan anweald gafeluec!"_ Merlin called over his shoulder and suddenly her blade was illuminated a beautiful glowing blue as power swirled all around it. The Saxon's blade struck her own in a shower of sparks, but rather than snapping it in two, her blade held firm and although it jarred her arms and buckled her legs under the sheer impact, causing her to drop to her knees, it also surprised the Saxon, who reeled backwards, taking pressure off Dante's blade and allowing her to free one hand from the hilt. Taking sudden advantage of this, she drew the dagger from her boot, then rammed it into his stomach, before he could go back on the offensive and press the attack again.

The huge man roared in pain and stumbled, allowing Dante enough space to regain her footing again. Without even pausing to think about what she was doing, she gripped her sword with both hands and swung it in a sideways arc, this time throwing all HER weight behind the movement.

The enchanted blue blade sliced across the man's exposed neck and he fell backwards, never to rise again.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, Dante stumbled over his corpse as Merlin fell backwards into her, fending off another Saxon who's hands had worked their way round the warlock's throat.

Dante scrambled out of Merlin's way, then retrieved the dagger and threw it as hard as she could. It buried itself deep in another Saxon's shoulder, allowing her time to help Merlin.

Driving her sword, (which was now reverting back to its familiar form as the enchantment wore off) down on the Saxon's exposed arms, she was able to sever one hand at the wrist, allowing Merlin enough air to breath once more, and therefore shout another spell.

_"Astrice!"_

The Saxon flew backwards into a boulder and crumpled to the floor. Merlin kicked the severed hand over to join him, his gag reflex suddenly going into overdrive and causing him to heave and cough in disgust, even as he fought to resist the urge. Dante looked equally as pale, and her sudden jerky movements warned Merlin that she was also fighting the urge to throw up. Both had seen battle before. Both had seen dead men. But neither of them had ever seen a dismembered body part first hand, and it truly was a gruesome sight to behold.

By now, only three Saxons of the original eight remained unhurt, each running to their horses. "We'll be back!" The Leader (who'd remained on the sidelines out of the fight so that he could observe them) warned, before the three galloped off and the clearing outside Morgana's hut fell silent once more - save for the driving rain, the groaning of the wounded Saxons and the heavy breathing of both Merlin and Dante.

"You...have magic..." She gasped again after several moments of silence, bent double to try and catch her breath. "Does anyone else...?"

"Know?" Merlin finished for her, massaging his throat gingerly and already feeling the thick bruises forming. "Only Gaius. And now you. And I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way..."

"But Morgana..." Dante started, and then stood sharply. "Morgana! Where the hell is she?!"

"I told you we couldn't trust her," Merlin said, his tone clearly saying 'I told you so'. Dante stormed over to the witch's hut, kicked open the door and started in.

"Morgana? Morgana! What the hell is taking you so - "

Her sudden silence caused Merlin's heart to skip a beat, in alarm. "What is it?" He called anxiously, starting for the door as well. When no-one answered, he tentatively stepped inside, afraid of what he would find.

Dante was standing in the middle of the tiny hovel, which had been trashed beyond recognition. "She's gone," she breathed. "They've taken her."

"We don't know that," Merlin started, looking round at the devastation. How had they not heard this, when they were just outside the door? "Maybe she thought we were done for and saved herself? She could have used her magic to disappear before the Saxons broke in?"

"Then why is there blood, Merlin?" She pointed to the huge puddle visible in the very centre of the room, along with the discarded armour that Morgana had been meaning to wear. Then she pointed at the smashed window on the far side of the hut. "They must have taken her! It's the only explanation!" Her anguish cut through Merlin like a knife through butter. "We have to help her!"

"Be serious, Dante," he said, snapping back to his senses in time to grab her arm as she started for the door once more.

"Merlin, let me go!"

"No. Listen to me Dante. Getting yourself killed will not bring Morgana back. You need to think about this."

"What would you have me do? Sit here and do nothing?"

"No. Arthur's orders were for you to go back to Camelot. So you need to go back and act like none of this ever happened."

"No, I'm going after her!"

"Arthur will kill you if he finds out you're in league with her!" Merlin warned. And all of a sudden he sounded like a man twice his age, with twice his wisdom and experience.

_What a time to grow up and become a man, _he thought ruefully as he watched Dante silently battling with the situation in her mind. She knew that he spoke the truth, but at the same time, she could not bear the thought of leaving Morgana to those monsters.

"I have to help her," she said softly.

"Come to your senses, Milady!" Merlin said sharply and Dante looked up then, startled, and a little angered by the warlock's tone. But then she saw Merlin's eyes - full of compassion and understanding, but still unyielding.

"Arthur gave me a job, to ensure you were returned safely to Camelot. I will not fail him. And I will not betray his trust. Not even for you. And especially not for Morgana. Besides...what do you think Morgana would do, were she in your position?"

Dante fought to deny the answer, but she couldn't. "She would do her duty," she said heavily, and Merlin nodded, taking her by the shoulders and turning her towards the door, finally.

"Exactly. And right now your duty is to get back to Camelot and warn everyone about the situation. Saxons have a firmer hold over our kingdom that we first thought, and with the army on the borders with Arthur, the city has been left undefended."

"Gwen must be warned," Dante agreed, taking a deep breath, and knowing that what he spoke was the truth.

Stepping back out into the rain once more, and surveying the bodies that littered the area around the hut, they both listened for a moment. Now, there were sounds of battle in the distance. Arthur had had to resort to Part Three of his plan, after all.

"He needs you," she said to Merlin as she walked over to Vixen and cleaned the blade on the cloak still draped over the mare's back. Then she slid it back through the leather strap, and turned back to Merlin again. "Go to him."

"Not until I've escorted you home," Merlin argued, as Dante pushed her soaking hair from her eyes with the back of one hand.

"I'm not going home..." she spoke thoughtfully, as if an idea had only now occurred to her.

"But - " Merlin started.

"Camelot needs to be warned, yes. But the main body of the Saxon army is fighting Arthur and his men right now. If Gwen has any sense, she'll have fortified Camelot's defences and brought all the townsfolk within the Citadel anyway. I'll be doing little in the way to help them, if I go back. I'll just be one more mouth to feed."

"You're not going back to fight with Arthur!" Merlin snapped, as she knelt by the only Saxon who was still alive, grabbing his collar.

"You're right, I'm not," she agreed to Merlin, before looking down at the man held firmly in her grasp.

"You understand me?" She spoke slowly, and firmly to him.

He nodded.

"You speak my language?"

Again he nodded.

"Then tell me...who is your leader?"

"I tell you nothing, little woman," he sneered, his voice so heavily accented that it was almost impossible to make out each word.

"Little woman?" She repeated, eyebrows rising. "Do you know who you're talking to?"

"I talk to no-one," he hissed. "Especially not woman like you."

"Alright, fine," she shrugged, pulling her knife from his shoulder, where she'd thrown it during the fight. He screamed in pain as blood began to ooze from the wound.

"Aww, does that hurt, big fella?" she asked feigning sympathy, before turning the blade and pressing it to his throat. "Tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you live."

"I say nothing!" He shouted, trying to free himself from her grip.

"I'd start talking if I were you," she said conversationally as she tightened her grip on his collar. "Because otherwise, you see my friend there?" She nodded to Merlin. "He's a warlock. You understand that word? Warlock? Sorcerer?...Magic man?"

"He is magic man?" the Saxon asked dubiously. "He is too small. Little woman makes Ulrich laugh with her lies."

"You think I'm lying?" she asked, eyebrows rising again as she looked to Merlin. "Merlin, if you will?"

"Dante, this isn't getting us anywhere," Merlin started to protest. But then, seeing the determined glare in her eyes, he sighed and held out a hand. Flames danced in his palm for a moment as his eyes glowed golden, before they vanished again. The Saxon called Ulrich gasped.

"He is magic man!"

"Yes, he is," Dante nodded. "And he can do bad things to you, if you don't tell me what I need to know. Let's start with an easy one then. What is your name?"

"Ulrich, son of Uldred," he said quickly, not wanting to incur Merlin's supposed wrath.

"Very good. Now we're getting somewhere. And who is your leader, Ulrich, son of Uldred?"

"Cor, son of Cordin,"

"At last we have a name," Dante nodded, pleased. "And how many scouts has Cor, son of Cordin sent across Camelot?"

"A dozen men, split into four groups. One group North, one South, one East, one West...and then a larger group...us...to the City, to capture his Queen."

"And what do you want with Morgana?"

"Who is Morgana?"

Dante rolled her eyes and nodded to Morgana's hut. "The woman who lives there. Short, dark hair, green eyes... evil smirk, wicked tongue...very bad temper. Throws you backwards into walls if you annoy her..."

Merlin snorted at Dante's description of Morgana, then turned away before she could see his grin.

"She is sister of Arthur King. We use her to make him surrender," Ulrich replied, catching on to just who she was referring to.

This time, however, it was Dante's turn to laugh. "You've kidnapped Morgana to make Arthur surrender? Fool! Arthur and Morgana hate one another. There is no love lost between them, let me assure you."

"Arthur King hates his own blood?" Ulrich asked uncertainly.

"Arthur _Pendragon_ hates a lot of people - including invaders in HIS kingdom. So I'd say, right about now, you and Morgana are both well and truly in Arthur' bad books. Now tell me where you've taken Morgana, and I'll consider letting you go." When he didn't immediately answer, she lifted the knife away from his throat and and backhanded him sharply across the face, the metal of the dagger's hilt carving a neat groove across his cheek. He howled in pain but still did not answer.

"Tell me!" Dante roared suddenly, her anger finally boiling over as her calm composure shattered. He glared up at her and smiled through bloodied teeth, knowing that he was getting to her. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten that Merlin the 'magic man' was nearby.

He spat a mouth full of blood and saliva at Dante, who ducked to one side, narrowly avoiding it, then let him go, took his helmet from where it had fallen to the side and used it to smash him round the side of the head, rendering him unconscious.

"I've a mind to slit his throat and be done with it," she growled as she rose to her feet once more. "But if this war carries on, he may be of some use. Merlin, take him back to Camelot. He is now officially my prisoner."

This was a side of Dante that Merlin had never seen before. The ruthless, anger-fuelled, merciless woman who was so completely different to the Dante he knew. If anything, this new persona of hers was very reminiscent of Morgana during the few times he'd encountered her after her exile.

And he wasn't liking it at all.

"Merlin!" she snapped. "Time is wasting! Good men are dying whilst we just stand here!"

"And how am I supposed to get him back to Camelot?"

"You're a warlock," she said sharply, as she untied Vixen, ripped the soaking cloak from the mare's back and discarding it on the floor. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"And where are you going?!" he challenged as she swung into Vixen's saddle and gathered up the reins.

"To find the druids" she told him curtly. "Because Arthur needs all the help he can get, and now is not the time for him to get picky about when and where magic is used. If it can help turn the tide of this war, then perhaps he will consider allowing it once more. Besides, I've no idea where Morgana's been taken. I'll need their magic to track her down."

She started off a little way, before sharply reining Vixen to a halt again, causing the mare to snort in indignation. "Oh and Merlin? If you DARE to even breath one word about my treason to anyone - and I mean ANYONE - I'll tell the world about _your_ magic and how YOU betrayed Arthur, by lying to him all these years. Maybe I'll even pin some of those magical 'incidents' on you. And who will everyone believe, then? Camelot's First Lady? Or some lowly serving boy?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed," he glared right back, matching her fierce expression with one of his own. "Though not for your sake."

"Wise decision, none-the-less," she nodded, her features softening ever so slightly. He saw very briefly the look of relief behind her eyes, before her face set into the solid mask of determination once more. But it was enough to get Merlin thinking. Maybe that was what was fuelling this new, dangerous side to her?

She was afraid of being found out, and that fear was turning to anger. Pretty soon, it would turn to hate, just as Morgana's had, before finally, people began to suffer as a result. He would not let that happen all over again. He would give Dante no reason to fear...he had no choice. Innocent people depended on him to keep her in line. If that meant keeping her secret, then so be it.

For now, at least.


	26. The Final Charge

**Author Note: Well here it is then...there's just one chapter left after this, because I have come to a decision. I want Dante's story to run right through Arthur's whole life - I want her to be there for every major event that he goes through, but to do that means that this one story would go on forever. So, by splitting it into two, and writing the rest of the story in at least one sequel, if not two, then it gives me a chance to break the story up a bit etc. Fear not, for I have already started on part 2, and it will be ready to go not long after this one has finished, but I thought I should give you all warning that after this chapter and the next one, this particular story will no longer be continuing. **

**Part two will be called Hearts of Courage, so look out for that, as it will be coming very soon :)**

**In the meantime enjoy these last two chapters :)**

...

The battle had been raging for what felt like an eternity now, but still the combined forces of Arthur's army fought bravely on, despite their fatigue. Men from the various kingdoms worked together to bring down the Saxons - united in one common goal, just as their respective kings were.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind, however, that Arthur was their true leader. He was shouting out orders left, right and centre, and men were scrambling to obey him in earnest. Even Bayard, Mark and Odin were happy to take orders. Lot was just happy to clear off into his own part of the field and do what he wanted - and in all honesty, Arthur was happy for him to do that, because it kept him from giving Arthur any grief.

The Round Table Knights were the fiercest of all the warriors, without doubt, as Gwaine proved when he powered into the Saxon horde, guiding Gringolet in a spin as the stallion kicked at the soldiers and sliced at them with his razor hooves.

Percival looked over at the damage his friend's horse was doing and laughed loudly.

"Which is the knight and which is the dumb beast?" he yelled across the battlefield. Gwaine grinned in response, but disaster quickly struck as a Saxon crossbowman let off a lucky shot that hit Gwaine squarely in the side and knocked him off his horse.

Percival had moved away by then, and did not see. As Gwaine fell, everything slowed around him.

He hit the ground hard , in slow motion, and lay stunned for a moment, the arrow protruding from his side. He could see that several of the other Camelot knights had already taken care of the Saxon archer and, with great effort, stood up and staggered back over to Gringolet.

Taking a deep breath, he reached down and broke off the arrow, as much as he could. The point was still embedded in his side and would need to be removed by Gaius later, but at least now it could not be knocked or cause any more damage.

As the arrow snapped between his fingers, a white hot bolt of pain shot through him and he grimaced, fighting to continue breathing. Gringolet, sensing that his master was in trouble, stood very still amongst the chaos as Gwaine struggled back into the saddle, whimpering involuntarily in agony. His horse was not the only one to come to his aid, however.

As he remounted, a group of Lord Bayard's blue clad knights gathered around, standing in a circle and facing outwards, swords and shields raised to protect him as he took a moment to conquer his pain.

...

Arthur, meanwhile, had spotted Cor, son of Cordin, whom he'd met with earlier to try and negotiate a surrender - but to no avail. Cor was having none of it and demanded the complete surrender of Arthur and the other Kings, to which Arthur obviously refused. The negotiations had deteriorated rapidly and become rather aggressive, at which point, the two respective armies had also come together, and battle had well and truly raged.

Now Arthur headed across the battlefield, eager to introduce the invader to Excalibur's wrath. Passing Gwaine, he waved an arm and shouted, "Come with me!"

And that was when he noticed that Gwaine was swaying uncertainly in the saddle, a dark mass of blood on his side. The Knights surrounding him were fending off the Saxon swordsmen who were even then moving in for the kill like sharks who had detected the scent of blood.

But there were too many Saxons and too few Knights. Arthur forgot about Cor, the Saxon leader and wheeled his own horse around, crashing into the Saxons with hurricane force, knocking most of them flat. Rearing and kicking savagely, Arthur's horse drove them away from Gwaine and Gringolet. Bayard's Knights followed the retreating Saxons, finishing them off with their swords and shields.

This allowed Arthur to ride up alongside Gwaine. "Are you alright? Can you continue?"

Gwaine smiled grimly, holding his side, and nodded. "I was just about to take care of all those barbarians when you came barging in..."

"Sorry," Arthur replied, knowing then that Gwaine would be alright. As long as Gwaine had his wit and his sarcasm, he was just fine. It was when he went quiet that you had to worry. "I just didn't want you to have them all to yourself."

...

A few yards away, Leon and Tristan galloped through the mass of Odin and Mithian's respective warriors, eliciting cheers from their comrades. Leon spotted Arthur and Gwaine, called to Tristan, and both knights pulled to a stop beside their King and fellow Round Table Knight, temporarily out of the fray as the main bulk of the fighting moved to the west of the field.

Seeing that Gwaine was wounded, Leon shot Arthur a troubled look.

"We were just taking a short rest," Arthur informed him, forcing his tone to remain light and casual.

"I have always maintained, Sire, that you lot are all too lazy to be knights," Tristan said with a broad grin, momentarily taking over Gwaine's role as joker of the pack. "Whereas I, on the other hand, am ready to finish this now and go home to a right Royal feast. "

Gwaine smiled bravely, pretending that he wasn't in pain, hoping that the others wouldn't notice how badly he was hurt. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Leon pointed. "Percival, by the looks of things."

They all turned to watch Percival come galloping up, breathing heavily. He was covered in blood, but seemed to be fine. Arthur realized, with relief - and pride - that it was Saxon blood that stained the huge giant of a knight from head to toe. As Percival rode up beside them, he noticed Gwaine's side. He looked at Arthur and the others, but said nothing. Then he studied Gwaine closely.

Gwaine returned the look with no expression but determination.

"What will Dante say?" Percival asked at last.

Gwaine shrugged, gritted his teeth against the pain, then took a deep breath and said, "She'll probably complain about missing all the action."

"Probably," Percival nodded with a slight laugh.

"Let's finish this and go home," Arthur said firmly, turning his horse to face the main force of the Saxons. The Knights formed a tight line on either side of him, placing Arthur at its centre. Then they looked to him and waited.

He looked to each man in turn, admiring their courage and feeling truly humbled to have such good, loyal friends. Then he raised Excalibur, pointed it towards their assembled enemy and began to ride hard.

The Knights roared out a great war cry as they thundered across the field, and soon other mounted riders had joined their lines, adding their swords and their voices to the charge, whilst those on foot cleared the way.

...

Hours later, the survivors marched slowly and painfully back into Camelot, bloodied, exhausted, but victorious none-the-less.

Arthur's final courageous charge had turned the tide well and truly in their favour, and the Saxons had realised their inevitable defeat. Cor, son of Cordin pulled his men back and retreated from the Kingdom to one of his much stronger holdings to the South, conceding to Arthur and his men this time, but promising revenge in the form of reinforcements from overseas.

Arthur was not worried - for the moment at least - because Camelot was safe again. Now he and the other Kings could focus on a more sound strategy to drive the Saxons from these lands once and for all.

The returning victors were greeted with cheers from those who had remained behind - the women, the elderly, the weak and the children. As Dante had predicted, Gwen had fortified the Citadel's defences in her husband's absence and taken as many citizens inside the safety of the walls as physically possible.

Now that news of victory had filtered through to them, the citizens were slowly emerging once more.

Merlin was waiting beside Gwen, Gaius, Annis and Mithian as Arthur, the Camelot Knights and the four kings rode into the courtyard. Seeing the many wounded men who accompanied him, Gaius immediately began to usher people into the Great Hall. He'd been expecting a heavy number of casualties, and had prepared the room to become a makeshift hospital, as was the usual custom during times of battle and warfare.

Gwaine was helped from the saddle by Percival, and led inside, whilst Mithian and Annis helped to lead the other wounded casualties inside also. Merlin and Gwen ran to Arthur, who looked weary and fatigued, but otherwise unhurt.

"Where's Dante?" He asked, noticing that she was missing from the gathered crowd who'd greeted their return.

"Ah...long story," Merlin muttered, taking the armour as Arthur pulled it off there and then, in the courtyard, breathing a huge sigh of relief as he did so. Hearing Merlin's falter, however, he paused and glared at his manservant suspiciously.

"Merlin. Where is Dante?"

"She's gathering reinforcements," Merlin replied, forcing his tone to remain casual. He even managed a slight shrug under the weight of the armour that had been dumped in his arms.

"Gathering what?" This hadn't been the reply Arthur had been expecting.

"She's gone to the druids," Gwen supplied helpfully as she extended a supportive arm towards her husband. "She knows you're against magic, but given the circumstances, I think it's safe to say you need all the help you can get."

Arthur wanted to protest - he really did - but now was not the time, and he knew that Gwen spoke the truth. If magic could help them spare innocent lives then, perhaps, it was time to let it back into his kingdom. Still, he wouldn't let Dante get away with such an act so easily. He'd make her work for it. Because after all, he was supposed to be dead set against magic in any form, and she'd deliberately defied his order to return to Camelot.

Oh yes, he'd make her regret defying him...at least for a little while.

He sighed as finally he allowed Merlin and Gwen to gently guide him inside, away from the prying eyes of his men.

"These Saxons are unlike anything we've ever fought before," he admitted, once they were alone together in a deserted corridor.

"They fight without fear," Merlin agreed, remembering back to the ambush that he and Dante had barely survived. Arthur looked at him, surprised.

"You weren't at the battle."

"No. But Dante and I were ambushed on our way back here," Merlin replied, feeling bad for deceiving Arthur. But then, it wasn't exactly a lie. Morgana's hut WAS on the way back to Camelot...sort of.

"You were ambushed?!" Arthur repeated incredulously. "Are you hurt? What about Dante? How did you escape?!"

"You underestimate our abilities," Merlin replied, sounding wounded. "We not only defeated them, but Dante even took one of them as her prisoner. He's down in the cells right now."

Arthur laughed incredulously. "I want to seriously believe that you are joking with me, Merlin. And yet I bloody well know you're not. Is there nothing you won't do, just to prove me wrong about you?"

"You'd be surprised," Merlin smiled wryly. Then he shrugged. "Let's face it though, I'm no Arthur."

"No, you're not," Arthur agreed, though not in an unkind way.

Just then, they were interrupted by Mithian striding towards them, beaming proudly. "You did it, Arthur. I've heard all about your heroic charge, like something from a fairytale. Songs will be sung of this day, of that I'm sure. And your name will become a legend. Everyone will know the brave deeds of Arthur and his knights."

"I wouldn't go that far," Arthur shrugged, attempting modesty, even though he flushed a deep crimson. Gwen grinned and patted his arm, whilst Merlin merely rolled his eyes. Arthur already had a huge ego as it was. He didn't need anything to inflate it even more.

"Yes well, I do have to admit," Mithian continued conversationally as she fell into step beside them, walking down the corridor together. "Without the combined forces of all our kingdoms, we would not have won this victory."

"Victory?" Arthur suddenly asked with great scepticism, stopping short and causing Gwen to stagger slightly as he tugged accidentally on her arm. "Victory? Mithian, there was no victory today."

"What do you mean?" she asked uncertainly.

"This is just the beginning." His words hung in the air about them, thick with emotion and concern - as dire a prediction as anyone in Camelot had ever heard uttered. And then he said it, and the truth of the matter hit them all so hard that it literally knocked the wind out of them.

"The Saxon Wars have only just begun."


	27. Epilogue

**Author Note: And for those of you who are wondering who Iseldir is, he is the druid chieftan that Arthur hands Mordred over to when he helps to free him. He is also the druid that Arthur confronts when taking the Cup of Life. I'm sure he's been in other episodes as well, but those are his two most prominent roles.**

...

Merlin waited until the cover of nightfall before he finally found a chance to sneak from the citadel. Hurrying to the familiar clearing where he always met with Kilgharra these days, he was surprised to find Aithusa had joined the great dragon.

Aithusa was still just a youngster, not even half the size of his much older, wiser counterpart. His scales gleamed pearly white under the moonlight and his eyes held a mischievous glint to them.

"Good evening, Young Warlock," Kilgharra greeted with a nod of his head. "You summoned us?"

"Erm, yeah," Merlin nodded, unable to take his eyes off Aithusa, who'd been nothing but a tiny hatchling the last time he'd seen him.

"Good evening, Emrys," Aithusa greeted politely with a bow of his own head - his voice more childlike and not so deep and resounding as Kilgharra's.

"Good evening Aithusa. It's good to see you again," Merlin grinned, overcoming his shock. "You've grown!"

Aithusa fanned out his wings and puffed out his chest proudly, causing Kilgharra to chuckle. Then he fixed Merlin with a keen stare. "What was it that you summoned us for, Merlin?"

"Dante's gone to find the druids," Merlin replied, sitting down in the grass as Aithusa and Kilgharra also settled themselves down.

"And there is a problem with that?" Aithusa asked. Both Merlin and Kilgharra turned to him, before Merlin replied with a shrug.

"I just didn't think many people knew about them. That's all. Let alone where to find them."

"Most people do not know where to find them," Kilgharra agreed with a patient nod. "But as you already know, Merlin...Dante is no ordinary person."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, frowning.

"Have you never heard the tale of Lord Ector and his wife?" Aithusa piped up. "Even I know that!"

"You're a dragon...you know everything," Merlin retorted, though not unkindly, and the great dragon laughed again, highly amused.

"Never the less young warlock, I am surprised that you do not know. The Lady Dante's mother was a druid. She lived with the small group in Essetir until Lord Ector found her one day trespassing on his lands. Instead of punishing her, or turning her over to Cenred, he spared her. The story goes that sometime later, she gave up her life as a druid, married Ector and promised never to use her magic again."

"So...so wait a minute," Merlin jumped back to his feet and started pacing as he tried to process the information. "You're telling me that Dante's mother was a druid?"

"I am."

"And...that Dante has...magic?"

"Possibly. Though it is doubtful that she knows this."

"Then that would explain her reaction, this morning," Merlin mused thoughtfully. "Once she got over the shock of knowing I had magic, she seemed to just sort of...accept it. It wasn't such a big deal to her, as it has been to some."

"Never-the-less, revealing your powers to her was not wise, Merlin. I warned you she was in league with Morgana . Now you have now seen with your own eyes, and still you chose to reveal your gifts."

"I had no choice!" Merlin argued. "Besides, Morgana's been kidnapped by the Saxons, so Dante can't tell her yet - and she's the only one I'm worried about right now."

"What about Arthur?" Aithusa asked.

Merlin thought again as he carried on pacing. "Well, if Dante rallies the druids...and convinces Arthur to allow magic back into the kingdom..." he grinned then, as the thought struck him. "Then I guess I'll have nothing to worry about."

"And if she fails?"

"Well she can't reveal my secret without me revealing hers," he grinned triumphantly. "So you could say we've come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

There was silence for a moment then as they all processed what had been spoken between them. And then Aithusa sat up a little taller.

"You do know she's related to Morgana?"

"What?!" Merlin stopped sharply, and even Kilgharra looked surprised by that.

"Explain," the great dragon growled. Aithusa was not phased, however. If anything, he looked incredibly pleased that he knew something the others didn't.

"Dante's mother is Lady Evelyn. Lady Evelyn is the sister of Lady Vivienne, who happens to be the mother of Morgana and Morgause."

"How do you come by this information?" Kilgharra demanded, rising to his feet furiously.

"I've seen inside the witch's mind," Aithusa replied, nonchalant. "When I saved her last year."

"When you WHAT?!"

Merlin stumbled back as the great dragon reared onto his hind legs, beating his wings furiously. Aithusa was not even half his size or stature, but he was ten times as bold, rearing up onto his own hind legs and beating his own wings, issuing a roaring challenge.

Merlin could only watch as, enraged, the two dragons began to fight, razor sharp teeth tearing at one another, vicious claws raking and scratching as they both took off, soaring into the air, issuing even more growls, roars and screams as they fought. He tried to call after them to stop - tried to use his voice as a Dragon Lord, but this time, the pair simply refused to listen.

All Merlin could do was clamp his hands over his ears, deafened by the noise. When he looked up to the night skies once more, the two dragons were nothing but dots against the brightness of the moon. Realising that the fight would undoubtedly have woken the entire castle, Merlin hurried back before anyone could notice that he was missing.

And as he ran, he wondered what the hell he was going to do now.

...

Riding into the small clearing outside the cave, Dante reined Vixen to a halt and slid carefully from the saddle. Taking both short swords from their respective places on either side of the saddle, she slid them into her belt - one on either side of her waist - then stood for a moment, admiring the cave.

It was a long shot, of course, but right now, it was the only chance she had. Stepping between the canopy of ivy that covered the entrance, she again paused for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the light - or rather, the lack of it. There were no sounds from within the cave, and she wondered (and not for the first time, either) if the place was deserted.

She hadn't been here for at least twenty two years, after all. It was more than likely that the druids had indeed moved camp at some point. But then she sniffed, involuntarily, and was greeted with a smell of smoke and burning wood.

Even if the druids were no longer here, they had been recently. And that was a start. It meant she was on the right track.

A slight smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she started forwards cautiously into the darkness, one hand held out in front of her as she felt for any sudden turns or obstacles that may lurk in the darkness.

And then she heard sounds from up ahead - voices and busy movements. This cave wasn't as deserted as it first appeared, then. Which was a good sign.

"Lady Dante," a calm, clear voice rang out in the darkness ahead of her, and Dante literally jumped back at least a foot, reaching for her weapons.

"Do not be alarmed," the voice spoke again. A sudden flare of light burst forth from the darkness and she threw one arm up to cover her eyes briefly, until she'd had time to recover from the shock. Then she dared to finally look again, only to see a familiar figure now standing before her, brandishing one hand - a flame dancing brightly in his palm and lighting up the surrounding area.

"Iseldir," she sighed in relief. "You scared me!"

"Then I must apologise, young one. It was not my intention."

"Just...give me a moment to restart my heart," she grumbled, leaning against the cave wall and taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

"Take your time," he nodded, his eyes glowing golden briefly as the flame rose from his palm to float - seemingly of its own accord, above their heads.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked at last, when she'd recovered from the shock.

"I will never forget the daughter of Evelyn," he said calmly.

"But I was just a child when you last saw me."

"You look more like your mother than you probably realise," he replied, extending an arm to her. She took it and allowed him to steer her in the direction of the druid camp further into the caves - the enchanted flame bobbing along just ahead of them to light their way. "It is impossible not to see the resemblance. Now come, child. Tell me what brings you this way?"

"Oh come on, you already know," she grinned, walking calmly by his side, arm in arm with the druid chieftain, as the cave disappeared round them to be replaced by woodland and a small forest clearing.

The hidden glade was completely cut off from the outside world - a perfect hideaway for the peaceful druid people, where they could not be pestered or hunted by those who would persecute them. For a moment, Iseldir paused in the entrance to allow her to survey the small community. It had been so long since she had last been here - yet nothing had changed. Even when the druids had moved on to pastures new, then returned again many years later, the camp had not changed one bit. And this brought a smile to her face, as she looked around.

The camp was more like a village, tidy and well ordered. There were several campfires dotted about along with a fair few shelters, and at least a hundred or so people wandering to and fro along the leaf littered paths that served as streets.

Dante couldn't help but notice when they glanced in her direction. Many stared, but whenever she attempted to meet their gazes, they would look away. Some huddled inside their tents and watched through the gaps in the cloth as she and Iseldir walked past. Iseldir could not help but notice her slight frown regarding all the furtive attention.

"They are surprised to see you here," he explained. "If not a little afraid. Your king would have us killed."

"They have nothing to fear from me," Dante pointed out. She was a little offended that the locals would look on her as some sort of threat. She had done nothing to them, and didn't intend to. She had come to these people for help.

"I do not share Arthur's hatred of magic."

Iseldir guided her carefully down a sharp dip in the path. "No, I imagine you wouldn't," he said, and his tone struck Dante as rather mysterious. But before she could enquire what he meant, he went on. "These forests are dangerous, and I find myself asking you again, what brings you so far from Camelot, Milady?"

"You know of the war that has broken out?" She asked after a moment, wondering where to begin.

"I do," Iseldir nodded. "Arthur Pendragon seeks to drive these invaders from his lands and unite the whole of Albion whilst doing so."

"Then you know why I am here."

"You wish us to help Arthur in his cause, despite his hatred of magic."

"I know it's a lot to ask," she sighed. "But...he is not going to win this war on his own. And whether he will admit it or not, he needs help."

"Of course he does," Iseldir agreed readily. "And he shall have it."

It took a few moments for his words to register. "Pardon?" She asked, not entirely sure she'd heard correctly. Could it really be that simple?

"Arthur has often shown our people great kindness, whether he intended to, or not," Iseldir explained. "He does not hate magic as much as he claims, and we find ourselves in his debt. He went to great lengths to return a valued member of this camp, several years past. And we druids do not forget our debts. If it is help for Arthur you seek, then help you shall have. But know this, we are not warriors. We are not soldiers. We are healers. Our skills will be useless on the battlefield."

"Oh don't worry," Dante assured him, relief surging through her at his words. "Your skills in healing will be most valuable. Thank you, Iseldir. Thank you for agreeing to this. I cannot tell you how grateful I am."

They stopped at the foot of the path. It was a chance for Dante to catch her breath, only now aware of how exhausted she was. A long night without sleep, followed by an ambush, and another day and half a night's long ride just to find the druids was finally taking its toll on her. Iseldir must have seen this, for he smiled apologetically.

"Come, rest a while, my girl. You are exhausted. You have been through much."

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully as he steered her towards a tent fashioned from rough scarlet material, suspended between two trees. Inside were cushions and sheets made of the same rough material, but after hour upon hour of sitting upon a hard leather saddle, they felt like heaven to slump down upon.

"Here," Iseldir said, holding out a bundle of crimson cloth. "It's not much, but at least it's more comfy than that armour."

Dante inspected the bundle to recognize that it was a hooded robe similar to Iseldir's own. She smiled gratefully and accepted the robe. It was plain and nothing at all like the elegant gowns that she'd been used to in Camelot - and yet she found that she didn't actually mind. Her mother had once been a druid...had once lived amongst these people, as one of them, before she'd met and married Lord Ector and bore him three children. Now it was Dante's chance to do the same - to walk in her mother's footsteps. She had no magic, of course - but it seemed that Iseldir was prepared to welcome her as one of his people, none-the-less.

"Thank you," she said again, although she wished she could say more. Those two little words didn't really seem to cut it, as far as her gratitude went.

"Rest now," Iseldir smiled. "We will talk again when you are ready." Then he backed out of the tent, giving her some privacy.

Dante very carefully stripped off the armour, finally beginning to feel the various cuts, scrapes and bruises from her recent fighting as they decided to make themselves known. Then, bundling the armour into a corner, she slipped into the hooded robe, already feeling that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders - or perhaps it was merely the weight of her armour?

Hearing a snort and a whinny from outside, she peered through the tent flap to see Vixen being led out of the cave and into the camp. The mare seemed a little daunted at first, but when Dante whistled in the way that Gwaine had showed her, Vixen's ears perked up, she looked in Dante's direction, then tugging the reins from the druid by her head, she trotted carefully through the camp, stopping and tossing her head a few times before the tent, before sticking her head inside the flap.

Dante laughed and pushed her back out again.

"Out, you daft thing," she scolded, though she was laughing all the same. "This tent's not big enough for the two of us."

Seeing her interacting with the horse in such a jovial manner, some of the other druids began to relax a little. They were very much at one with nature, themselves, and admired anyone else who showed even the remotest bit of interest towards the animal world.

Dante, however, was oblivious to this as she gave the reins to a young man with dark hair and a keen gaze.

"What's her name?" he asked, stroking the mare's neck gently.

"Vixen," Dante replied.

"A beautiful name, for a beautiful creature," he agreed, petting her fondly. "I'm Mordred, by the way."

"Dante," she replied. And then she paused, studying him for a moment. "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking?"

The teen call Mordred shrugged. "I'm fifteen, Milady."

"And are you THE Mordred?"

"I'm sure there are more who share my name, " he replied, amused by her odd line of questioning. She shook her head and decided to rephrase.

"No, what I meant was...are you the druid boy who befriended Morgana?"

"You know Morgana?" Mordred suddenly asked, eyes sparking eagerly. "What news do you have of her? Is she well? I felt her distress earlier this morning. Has something happened?"

And Dante knew then, as she looked at the very handsome young druid standing before her, that even if the other druids refused to help (despite Iseldir's promise) then she would at least have an ally in him.

"Mordred," she said at length. "I need your help."

**To Be Continued...**

_Coming soon: Part 2 - Hearts of Courage_


End file.
